On the Shoulders of Giants
by SongOfRoland
Summary: Neville Longbottom has always been in the background.  After a terrible loss leaves Ginny in a rather delicate situation, how will everyone, including Ginny, react when Neville is the one who steps up?  Written before Deathly Hallows and therefore AU.
1. Fade Away

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and related characters/places/concepts are the property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, etc.

**Warnings: **Major Character Death, Teen Pregnancy

* * *

Chapter One: Fade Away

"Neville? Ginny? McGonagall wants to see you both in her office," Demelza Robins said as she entered the common room. She handed a small scroll to Neville.

Neville closed his Herbology book and scanned the contents of the scroll. He turned to find Ginny standing over his shoulder.

"Droobles Blowing Gum?" she read, a frown on her face. "Must be the password."

"Yeah," Neville said, shrugging. "I s'pose we should get going."

They walked in silence through the halls, though Neville kept turning over thoughts in his head. He had no idea why he and Ginny would both need to see McGonagall, unless…

"What do you think the meeting is about?" Ginny said, her voice shaking slightly.

"Maybe it's news. Maybe the Order needs our help with something," Neville suggested, feeling rather unsure of his own words.

Ginny snorted. "Unlikely. They've made it entirely clear our help is not needed." She muttered something else, and Neville got the feeling she wasn't talking about the Order.

They entered McGonagall's office to find that Luna Lovegood was already there, humming some nursery rhyme as she sat in a squashy armchair. McGonagall was seated at Dumbledore's old desk, looking older than Neville had ever seen her.

"Good, you're here," McGonagall said, her tone wavering. "I wanted to tell you three first – before it becomes common knowledge. You-Know-Who is dead."

Neville frowned, his eyes wide. This should be happy news, but something in McGonagall's expression told him it wasn't…not entirely, at least.

Ginny, however, didn't look convinced. "Really dead, Professor?"

McGonagall bowed her head. "Yes – I have been in contact with Remus Lupin, who spoke with Hermione Granger two days ago. She confirmed that the last of the obstacles had been eliminated, and that…You-Know-Who…could be completely killed."

Neville had no idea what that meant, but one glance at Ginny gave him the impression that she did. He looked over at Luna, who had lost her dreamy look but appeared no less confused than himself.

"How did it…happen?" Neville heard himself ask.

"The Order had very little time to prepare. We lost Hestia Jones and Dedalus Diggle. You may be surprised to hear this, but Severus Snape also died protecting Miss Granger from the Killing Curse. She and Mr. Weasley were both injured, but they will both be fine in a few days."

Neville breathed a sigh of relief, and some of the worry had left Ginny's eyes. "What about the rest of my family, Professor?" she asked quietly.

"All fine. Your parents were nowhere near the worst of the action, and your brothers Fred and George and Bill all escaped unscathed."

Ginny exhaled loud enough for the others to hear. Neville grabbed her hand, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Sighing, McGonagall cleared her throat and wrung her hands. "As for Harry…well, he knew it was his battle. I do not know the full extent of whatever he and Professor Dumbledore were working on last year, but he seemed determined to face V-voldemort. Alone." A single tear rolled down McGonagall's cheek. "Harry killed him. He saved us, but he…he…"

She looked up and stared at the three of them intently. Neville began sniffling, and Luna's eyes looked especially watery. Ginny's face was blank as she gripped Neville's hand.

"I wanted to tell you personally – I know you were his friends." McGonagall was openly crying now, to Neville's great surprise. He had never seen the normally austere professor in such a state.

"Harry…did not make it."

Neville's fears were confirmed, but his thoughts immediately turned to Ginny. She looked to be beyond tears, but her body was shaking. Suddenly, she lurched sideways and Neville dove to catch her as she fainted in his arms.

* * *

"There's nothing you can do for her, Mr. Longbottom; I gave her a potion for dreamless sleep," Madam Pomfrey said. Still, Neville did not move from his place near Ginny's bed, though Luna had long since returned to the Ravenclaw dormitory.

Neville did not think he had ever been more miserable in his life. This was twenty times worse than when his grandfather and Trevor the toad had died combined. With Ron, Hermione, and Harry gone from the school, Neville had become quite good friends with Ginny, and he hated what this had done to her.

"How long will she have to stay here, Madam Pomfrey?"

Turning, Madam Pomfrey eyed Neville carefully. "How close are you to Miss Weasley, Mr. Longbottom?"

Neville was confused by the question, but he answered honestly. "She's become a good friend, especially this year, since so many students didn't come back."

Madam Pomfrey seemed to accept this answer. "Well, I want to keep her here for a few days for observation. Her system seems to have suffered a shock, understandably, and in her current state of distress there is an increased chance of miscarriage."

Neville's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. He couldn't have heard that correctly.

"I take it you didn't know," Madam Pomfrey said, looking somewhat surprised. "I would have thought…well, never mind. I must go owl her mother. Get some sleep, Mr. Longbottom."

Neville pulled off his school robe and kicked off his shoes. There was no way he was going back to the dormitory now – he didn't want to field questions from Seamus and Dean and he didn't want to leave Ginny alone. He climbed into a nearby bed and waited for the sleep that never came.

* * *

Neville awoke the next morning to a prodding Madam Pomfrey. "When I told you to get some sleep, I meant in your own bed," she said.

"Sorry. I just didn't want…"

"It's all right, Mr. Longbottom, I quite understand. I'll fetch breakfast for the two of you."

Neville looked over at Ginny, who was sitting upright in her bed and staring down at her hands. He approached her cautiously. "Ginny?"

She said nothing for several moments. "It's all right, Madam Pomfrey told me she let my secret slip to you. I think she thought…" Ginny trailed off and laughed hollowly.

Neville suddenly realized what Madam Pomfrey must have assumed and felt himself turn scarlet.

Madam Pomfrey returned with two breakfast trays, though Neville found he wasn't very hungry. Ginny, too, was picking at her food, only nibbling on a piece of toast before shoving the tray away.

"Everything is so messed up, Neville," she said softly.

"D'you…want to talk about it?" he asked.

Ginny sighed. "I suppose I'll have to eventually…Madam Pomfrey said my mother is coming this morning, and telling her will be an absolute nightmare. Is it all right if I practice my story on you?"

"Practice away," Neville said.

Taking a deep breath, Ginny squared her shoulders. "Well, I suppose it starts with the Easter holidays. We were able to spend some time together…alone." She paused then, a dreamy look taking over her face. An instant later, however, this look was replaced by one of horror, and she burst into tears.

Neville realized she hadn't really cried yet, so he pulled her close and rubbed her back as she sobbed on his shoulder. Occasionally she would try to speak, only to have her voice dissolve back into tears.

As Ginny cried, Neville tried to figure out how she could possibly be pregnant. As far as he knew, she hadn't dated anyone all year…and she had stayed at Hogwarts for the Easter holidays. He knew it was possible that she just hadn't told him – they were friends, yes, but they tended to avoid the topic of relationships, which was just fine for Neville. He ran through the likely candidates in his head. She had dated Dean once, of course, but surely he would have known about them getting back together. Deciding he probably wasn't going to be able to figure it out, he turned his attention back to Ginny.

"My mum is going to kill me," Ginny mumbled.

"I doubt that. She loves you," Neville said.

Ginny snorted and wiped some of the tears from her face. She turned her attention to the front of the room, where Mrs. Weasley had appeared. Ginny tensed a little as her mother approached, and Neville quickly moved to another bed.

"Mum," Ginny cried brokenly as Mrs. Weasley gathered her in her arms. Neville suddenly felt like an intruder and started to put on his shoes.

"No, Neville, stay. You should know," Ginny said quietly.

Mrs. Weasley looked back and forth between the two of them, a curious look on her face. "Ginny, what's going on? Madam Pomfrey's owl seemed very urgent."

Ginny sighed and looked up, her face still streaked with tears. "I'm pregnant," she said bluntly.

Mrs. Weasley looked completely thrown, as though this had been the last thing she had expected. Neville could see her face quickly moving from shock to anger, however.

"How could you do this, Ginevra Molly Weasley? I raised you better than that!"

"I'm sorry, Mum, but – "

"What are you going to do? You're sixteen, Ginny!"

"I know that; I'll figure out something."

Mrs. Weasley huffed. "Well, what do you have to say about this, Neville?"

Neville started shaking his head, finding no words.

"It's not Neville's," Ginny said, sounding rather amused at the very thought. "We're just friends."

"Well, then, who _is_ the father, Ginny? You'll have to get married; the Ministry won't allow a teenager to keep a baby born out of wedlock and heaven knows you'd never get a job," Mrs. Weasley ranted.

Neville suspected this was probably true. One of his uncles worked for the Ministry Marriage Register, and he knew wizarding society tended to be very old fashioned when it came to things like marriage and children. He was pulled away from this train of thought, however, to see that Ginny was now nearly hysterical, rocking back and forth with her arms hugging her knees.

Mrs. Weasley seemed to have softened a bit at this image and she took Ginny in her arms once more. "What is it? You can tell me, baby."

For a moment the only sound to be heard was Ginny's continued sobs. Hiccuping, she tried to speak. "I…I can't marry the father, because…because…"

Her voice trailed off, and something fell into place in Neville's brain.

Mrs. Weasley gasped and hugged Ginny tighter. "Oh, no…oh Ginny, I understand. Hush, it will be all right." She stroked Ginny's hair and started to cry herself. Neville turned away from the scene, feeling very out of place.

Ginny finally pulled away from her mother and smiled weakly. "I'm so sorry, Mum. He came to Hogwarts to see Hagrid over the Easter holidays, and we sort of ran into each other and…you know. I never did behave very reasonably around him."

Mrs. Weasley gave a short laugh. Neville chuckled, too, remembering a much younger Ginny trailing after Harry and sending him singing Valentines. It felt good to know that he could still smile.

* * *

A/N: This has been sitting in a notebook pretty much since HBP came out, and I finally felt like posting it. Constructive criticism is welcome. The whole story is basically written, so I'll be posting fairly regularly. Hope you enjoy! 


	2. Stop Crying Your Heart Out

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter. Also, chapter titles are Oasis songs; I don't own those, either.

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Chapter Two: Stop Crying Your Heart Out

"Ginny? Come on, we have to get down to the grounds," Neville said, tapping Ginny's shoulder gently. She was wearing her black school robe but remained firmly planted in an armchair.

"I'm not going, Neville…I just…can't."

Neville looked around the empty common room; everyone else had already gone down to the funeral. "You need to say goodbye," he said softly.

After a few more encouraging words from Neville, Ginny finally nodded and followed him downstairs. Neville shielded his eyes from the bright sun as they emerged from the castle, wishing that the sky had chosen to be a little gloomier.

There was a large crowd, as Neville had expected. It looked as though all of wizarding Britain had shown up, from the Minister of Magic to the smallest magical children. Neville stood slightly in front of Ginny as he looked for familiar faces. It looked as though many of the students who had not returned to school after Dumbledore's death had even turned up for Harry's funeral, which he supposed was appropriate. He spotted his gran, who was surrounded by her large circle of friends, but decided to hold off speaking with her until he could find Ron and Hermione.

"There you are!" Neville turned to see Hermione rushing towards them. She looked rather tired and one side of her face was bruised, but she was otherwise fine. Hobbling behind her was Ron, who had, according to Ginny, crushed his foot almost completely in a duel with a Death Eater and would need crutches for a few weeks.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked, coming forward to give Ginny a hug.

"I've been better," she mumbled. "Neville had to drag me out of Gryffindor tower."

Ron shot his sister a comforting smile and locked eyes with Neville for just a moment. Suddenly, his face paled. "Oh no, it's those blasted Daily Prophet reporters again. Let's get out of here."

Ron and Hermione hurried towards the rest of the Weasley family as quickly as possible, but Ginny stayed put. She had a look of disgust on her face as she glanced over at the reporters, who looked to be hounding a woman with pink hair.

"Come on, the service is about to start. Your family is in the front row," Neville said, leading Ginny towards the rows of chairs. Ginny fell into a seat next to Bill, who was busy comforting a weepy woman Neville thought he recognized as Fleur Delacour. Shaking his head, Neville started back to sit with his gran, only to have Ginny tug on his sleeve.

"Stay," Ginny said quietly. Nodding, Neville took the seat next to her, and soon her head was resting on his shoulder.

This was even worse than Dumbledore's funeral, Neville quickly decided. Dumbledore, at least, had lived a long, full life, and Harry had not even been eighteen. He would never see his child…

Neville still wasn't sure quite what to make of that. For the time being, he was just trying to be a good friend to Ginny. He had sat up with her that first night after her mother visited, despite the fact that he should have been studying for his Charms NEWT. Ginny had spent much of that night worrying over whether she would be allowed to sit her NEWTS even if she had to miss her last year. Neville had quickly reminded her that Ron and Hermione had received permission to sit the exams in August and that surely she merited a special exemption just as much as they did.

Neville knew Ginny would need every advantage possible – there was such a stigma against unmarried mothers that it would be difficult for her to find a good job unless her test scores were fantastic. Neville smiled suddenly, imagining the look on Hermione's face when she learned of the conservative wizarding world attitudes surrounding Ginny's situation, but then he remembered he was at a funeral.

He had spent so much time thinking about Ginny, in fact, Neville had missed most of the service. The person speaking didn't seem to have known Harry, as he mostly talked about Harry's heroic deeds and accomplishments. Neville didn't find that to be completely appropriate, and judging from the looks on Ron and Hermione's faces they didn't, either.

Glancing at Ginny, Neville noticed that her hand was resting lazily on her abdomen and her gaze was fixed on Harry's funeral bier. His body bore no markings of the injuries Neville knew he must have sustained, and he was dressed in black school robes over black trousers and a lumpy green jumper. He was partially covered with what looked like a silken Gryffindor Quidditch banner.

The speaker motioned for those who had known Harry well to come lay flowers on the bier. Neville rose unsteadily, feeling extremely uncomfortable as a bawling Hagrid fell to his knees. After several awkward moments, Hagrid finally moved to the side with one last blubbering wail. The members of the Weasley family filed past next, each whispering their goodbyes.

Ron and Hermione paused in front of Harry together, their hands clasped tightly. Hermione gingerly laid a white lily amongst the folds of red and gold fabric. She whispered words Neville couldn't hear, but he noticed that they caused Ron to smile slightly through his tears.

Luna was next; her usually bright eyes glimmering with tears. "You'll be okay, Harry," she said in her matter-of-fact way. "Your family is waiting for you…and if you see my mum, tell her Daddy and I found a Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

Neville smiled despite himself as Ginny detached from his hand and approached the bier. She leaned in closely and kissed Harry's forehead. She seemed to be whispering something, but Neville couldn't make it out. Wiping her eyes, Ginny brushed a bit of Harry's hair back from his face. Her brother Fred (or George, Neville could never tell) led her away, leaving Neville by himself.

He set down his flower quickly and stepped back, unsure of what to say. "I know no one could ever take your place, but I promise I'll protect her," he said softly, feeling resolved to the idea he had pondered earlier. "I'll do anything I can to keep them safe, Harry…always."

* * *

They spread Harry's ashes on the Quidditch pitch later that evening. The group was much smaller now; mostly Order members and Hogwarts staff. The house elves had set up a buffet table of sorts, and everyone lingered around telling stories of Harry and nibbling on bits of food.

Neville sat on the grass with Ron, Hermione, Luna and the Weasley twins. Ginny had separated from the group almost immediately, claiming she needed time to think and be alone.

"I just wish I knew what to do for her," Hermione said miserably. "I mean…I remember when Harry made his will, because I remember being so mad at him for even thinking of such a thing…and she'll get a good share of his money, but money can't fix everything."

"You know, it's a good thing Harry's already dead, or we might have been forced to kill him," one of the twins said solemnly, but he was grinning. "At least he didn't die a virgin."

"George!" Hermione exclaimed in disbelief as she thwacked the back of his head, which earned a chuckle from Fred.

"Too bad, really," Luna said offhandedly. "If you die a virgin you can be reincarnated. The spirit world is always looking for pure souls to reintroduce to the world of the living at opportune moments."

Ron choked on his pumpkin juice as Fred and George fell over laughing. Hermione was obviously trying to look offended, but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Shaking his head, Neville decided to find Mr. Weasley.

The Weasley patriarch was standing on the edge of the crowd, speaking with Professor Lupin. Lupin still looked more distressed than anyone save Ginny, but his face did not have the same ashen look it had held during the actual funeral. Apparently, Lupin had been good friends with Harry's parents, so Neville could understand why he was so upset. He probably felt like he had let them down, or something - a feeling Neville was all too familiar with.

Neville was just close enough to overhear the two talking, and he didn't want to interrupt, so he lingered near the table and helped himself to another strawberry tart while still straining to listen.

"-not concerned about the will, really. I assume Molly told you of the…complication?" Lupin nodded, and Mr. Weasley sighed. "Frankly, the Ministry's attitude does not worry me so much as the remaining Death Eaters do."

"I agree," Lupin said. "According to Tonks, Auror intelligence indicates that those left will be hungry for revenge. It's not like last time – we generally know who the real, dangerous Death Eaters are. They have nothing to gain by pretending they had been hoodwinked, because the Ministry is smarter this time. I mean, we're dealing with people who have already done time in Azkaban. Bellatrix Lestrange, for one, is still out there."

Bellatrix Lestrange! That definitely settled it, Neville decided. He moved a little closer.

"The trick is going to be keeping the baby's paternity a secret from them," Mr. Weasley was saying. "Everyone who was at Hogwarts last year knew about Ginny and Harry, from what Ron tells me. I just don't know how to pass the child off as someone else's without actually having a 'someone else' in the picture. But I doubt Ginny would agree to that, and I have no idea where we could find a willing young man, anyway."

Lupin opened his mouth to respond, then promptly shut it again, noticing Neville. "Did you need to speak with one of us, Neville?" he asked.

Neville looked nervously between his old Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and the kind-faced Mr. Weasley. He summoned up his courage and went for it. "I was thinking, earlier, about Ginny, and I decided – with your permission, of course…and if she agrees – that I want to marry her."

Mr. Weasley and Lupin glanced at each other, identical expressions of shock on their faces. "Where did you get that idea, Neville?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Well, sir, I've honestly been thinking about it since…that night after the battle…and hearing you talk now just made me more sure. I would do anything to protect Ginny; she has become one of my closest friends, especially this past year," Neville said plainly, thankful his voice did not shake.

Mr. Weasley looked at Neville curiously, as though he were trying to learn something. "Do you love her?"

Gulping, Neville thought carefully about his response. He couldn't deny the attraction he felt to Ginny – he had liked her since fifth year – but he had always thought it would never go anywhere. She was meant to be with someone else.

"I do love Ginny, sir," Neville said finally, "but I mostly just want her to be happy. I know she loved Harry and would have been happy with him…and I would have been glad for them."

Lupin had an almost proud smile on his face, which Neville appreciated. He had always liked Professor Lupin.

Mr. Weasley was still regarding him thoughtfully. "Would you raise the child as your own?"

"Of course," Neville said.

Mr. Weasley's face at least broke into a grin. "If Ginny agrees…you have my blessing. You truly are a noble Gryffindor, Neville Longbottom."

Neville felt his face turning pink, but he couldn't help a wide smile from forming. He didn't think he had ever received a nicer compliment.

* * *

Ginny sat at the edge of the Quidditch pitch underneath one of the goal posts, replaying the night Harry came to visit in her mind. They hated even been dating, really - they had barely talked all year, since he hadn't come back to school and she had been cast off like...a little sister. She had understood why he had to leave, but that hadn't stopped her from being mad at him. The speed with which her resolve had melted the instant he reappeared in her life still surprised her. She didn't regret it, and she knew she couldn't resent her child for existing, but she would have given anything for things to have turned out differently.

"Ginny? May I talk to you for a moment?" Hermione asked, breaking into her reverie.

"I figured you would come to pester me at some point," Ginny said as Hermione sat on the ground next to her. They sat in silence for awhile as Ginny continued to pick at bits of grass.

"I'm worried about you," Hermione said finally. "You have to talk to someone. This isn't healthy, especially since – "

"I will talk when I want to. You have absolutely _no idea_ what I feel right now," Ginny said through clenched teeth.

"You're right, I don't, but I'm trying to underst – "

"You can't understand!" Ginny cried. "I am sixteen years old and I'm going to have the child of the Savior of the Wizarding World, or whatever else fool title they have given him. I can't give the child his name, and I probably won't finish school, and the Ministry will most likely go all Dark Ages on me. But you know what makes me the most angry?" Ginny paused, cursing the grief and hormones that had started the tears again. Hermione looked certifiably gobsmacked by her outburst, but she made no move to comment.

"He knew. He knew he was going to die, and I was too stupid to see it. I should have been there, should have stopped him – but that would have been selfish. And I hate myself for being angry with him, for doing what he had to do, for being what I loved him for…because he didn't think about what this would do to me."

Ginny held her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking. She felt Hermione inching closer, finally wrapping her in a comforting embrace.

"You know," Hermione said thoughtfully, "Harry did get very fatalistic towards the end, but his spirit changed drastically after he visited Hagrid in April. Ron and I assumed he was going to say goodbye, but he came back with a renewed focus…an optimism I had not seen in him before. It was as though he had found a reason for living…it all makes so much sense now." Hermione grasped Ginny's hands and looked her straight in the eye. "He would have wanted you to be happy."

Turning, Ginny faced the sunset, admiring the brilliant colors shining across the Scottish countryside. "I know," she said solemnly.

* * *

A/N: I snuck some of Ginny's POV in there at the end, which will happen occasionally as the story progresses. Please review; I love feedback! 


	3. Better Man

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter does not belong to me.

* * *

Chapter Three: Better Man 

The next few days flew by quickly for Neville. Ginny had gone home with her family instead of riding the train, which had made for a rather boring trip back to England. His grandmother had then declared loudly on the platform that she "couldn't believe her little Neville was a fully qualified wizard – never thought he'd make it." He hadn't been thrilled with the implication that he was completely incompetent, but she had at least refrained from mentioning his father.

Neville didn't think she would be overly pleased about his plans regarding Ginny Weasley, which was why he had given her a fake reason for his Diagon Alley trip. He wished he hadn't forgotten what it was he'd claimed a need to go buy – she was bound to ask.

Hands in pockets, Neville approached Weasley's Wizard Wheezes cautiously. He had always been somewhat intimidated by Fred and George, and he definitely did not fancy turning into a canary again. His gran had steered him away from the garishly decorated shop last year, claiming it was "far too ridiculous." Coming from a woman who wore stuffed vultures for hats, this was a bit rich, but Neville had not dared tell his gran that.

"Ah, Mr. Longbottom, Dad said you would be by the shop today." Either Fred or George ushered him into the shop – he could never tell them apart.

"Yes, I've been invited for dinner. Mr. Weasley said I could Floo from here," Neville replied as he eyed a display of something called Forget-Me-Knots.

"Yeah, there's a fireplace in the upstairs flat. Fred's up there right now," George explained. "By the way, I can get you a deal on those Forget-Me-Knots. You tie the string on your wrist and it changes colors to remind you of certain events – anniversaries, birthdays, stuff like that."

Neville tried to appear indignant as he fished some coins out of his pocket, but he failed miserably.

"There you are, Neville," George said with a smirk as he dropped the change in Neville's palm and handed over the small box. Smiling sheepishly, Neville headed upstairs.

"Neville! Good to see you!" Fred exclaimed, clapping a hand on Neville's back. He was beginning to think Mr. Weasley had told the twins why he had been invited to dinner.

"Best get a move on. George and I'll be late, but the rest of the family should be there. Floo powder's in that little jar, just call out 'The Burrow.'" Fred winked and shoved Neville into the fireplace.

Neville liked the Floo better than Apparating, but he had a slight smoke allergy that tended to flare up inside fireplaces. He had ridden in a car once and enjoyed it immensely, but it was a little slow, he supposed.

Mrs. Weasley was the only person in the kitchen when he arrived. She looked up and smiled at the sight of him.

"Here, let me clean you off." Mrs. Weasley muttered a few cleaning charms to remove the soot. Neville nodded his thanks; he was rubbish at those types of spells.

"Ron and Hermione are in the parlor," she added, directing him through the doorway. Neville looked around in wonder at the house; it was decidedly different from the Longbottom family home. His gran would probably not have approved of the cramped rooms or mismatched cushions, but Neville did not think he had ever been in a more welcoming home.

"Hello Neville," Hermione greeted warmly. Neville returned her smile, but he couldn't help but feel a little out of place. He knew he was a poor substitute for Harry, in more ways than one. _This was a stupid idea_, he thought for the millionth time that day.

"Listen, Neville, I know we weren't exactly best mates at school…but I always considered you a friend. Me and Harry both did," Ron said. His right leg was propped on a stool, his crutches resting nearby. "You're a good man."

Hermione exchanged a glance with Ron. "We just have one question." She paused, then took a deep breath. "We thought you had a thing for Luna."

Neville blinked several times, then laughed. "Well, I did kiss her once, earlier this year – because neither of us had kissed anyone before and we figured that was sort of pathetic, so…yeah." Neville reddened; he couldn't believe he had just admitted that. "Luna and I are just friends. She's a bit too wonky for me, really. Besides, she's been dating Colin Creevey since February." He grinned at the stunned looks on Ron and Hermione's faces.

"How did _that_ happen?" Ron asked.

"Well, apparently Colin just barely got the marks required by Flitwick to be in his N.E.W.T. Charms class, so Flitwick got Luna to tutor him. With you gone, Hermione, Luna was one of the top Charms students. She'd probably have a shot at Head Girl if anyone, uh, respected her." Neville laughed, but stopped suddenly when he saw the look on Hermione's face. He belatedly realized that the topic of Head Girls was most likely a sore one for her.

"Dinner is ready!" Mrs. Weasley called from the kitchen. Ron hurried as fast as he could on his crutches, causing Hermione to shake her head.

"I'll just go fetch Ginny, then," Hermione said. Neville nodded and headed for the table.

He was greeted by a sea of red hair and plenty of noise. He recognized Bill, who was sitting next to the only other non-redhead currently in the room – his wife, Fleur. The man sitting on Bill's left side had to be the next oldest brother, but Neville was at a loss for his name. The twins had arrived as well, to Neville's surprise, and Mr. Weasley sat at the head of the table reading the newspaper.

"We got out a little earlier than expected," Fred or George said. "Good thing, too. I'm starved."

Neville sat down opposite the strange redhead, who introduced himself as Charlie. "I work in Romania, but I've been in town for…you know."

Neville nodded and shifted a bit, accidentally bumping into Ron. "Sorry," he mumbled. Ron waved him off and looked hopefully at the stove.

Hermione entered then, trailed by a tired-looking Ginny. Ginny's red hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, and she wore Muggle jeans and a short sleeved green blouse. Neville felt suddenly overdressed in his grey robes, the ones his grandmother always made him wear when anyone came to dinner.

"Hi, Ginny," he said with a smile.

"Hi, she responded softly. She sat between Hermione and one of the twins. Mrs. Weasley set down several plates of food and the meal began.

Dinner was a lively affair, and Neville enjoyed himself immensely. Charlie had just finished telling yet another dragon story when Bill suddenly looked at Neville thoughtfully.

"Any idea what you'll do now school's done, Neville?" he asked.

Nodding, Neville replied, "I've been offered a job as an Herbal Research Assistant at St. Mungo's, provided my Herbology N.E.W.T. was good enough…and I think it was."

"That's great, Neville! You were always the best at Herbology," Ron said. "Wish I'd already taken the N.E.W.T.S….Hermione has me studying constantly."

"Of course I do," Hermione retorted. "The Auror Academy said they'd let you start in January only if you passed the required N.E.W.T.S." Ron shrugged and shoveled more food into his mouth.

"Do you know what you're going to do, Hermione?" Charlie asked.

Hermione looked uncomfortable. "I was actually recruited to work in the Department of Mysteries, as an Unspeakable. But I don't know that I could go back there, after…"

The room went remarkably silent. After several awkward moments, Fleur coughed delicately. "Zis bread is wonderful, Molly," she said appreciatively, flipping her long silver hair over her shoulder. Molly beamed at the compliment and the table broke out into conversation again.

After the plates had been cleared away, Mr. Weasley looked at Ginny, who had not spoken at all during dinner. "Why don't you show Neville the garden, Ginny? The flowers are nice this time of year."

Ginny rose slowly from her seat and led Neville out through the kitchen door. She walked in front of him, her eyes staring at the ground. She finally sat down on an old wooden bench near the hedge and motioned for Neville to join her.

They sat in silence for several moments as Neville looked around the garden. Mr. Weasley was right; the flowers really were nice. He thought he spotted a garden gnome peeking around the corner of a large overgrown bush, but he couldn't be sure.

"I missed you on the train," he said finally. "I tried sitting by Luna, but she was with Colin. So then I found Seamus and Dean, but they were busy snogging their respective girlfriends. I finally found an empty compartment and fell asleep."

Ginny snorted, but flashed him a small smile. She sighed then and turned to face him. "Neville, I know why you're here; my family isn't good at keeping secrets. And while I appreciate the gesture, I really don't think – "

"It was my idea," he interrupted. Ginny looked surprised at that. He fumbled in his pocket, finally managing to grasp the object he had purchased earlier in Diagon Alley. Falling to his knees in front of her, he held up the box. "I'm serious about this, Ginny. Will you marry me?"

Ginny's eyes widened as she took the box. Opening it, she revealed a simple gold band adorned with a single diamond flanked by two smaller rubies. Her lip quivered. "Neville, this is too much…I mean…I don't love you like that…Harry…"

"Yes, I know," Neville replied quietly. "But I don't think you hate me, either, and that's good enough for me." Ginny didn't respond, so he continued. "Ginny, you've been a good friend, especially this past year. I want to marry you. I know I'm not Harry, and I won't try to be." He took Ginny's chin in his hand and raised her face to meet his eyes. "But it would be an honor to raise Harry's child, and there is nothing I want more than to keep you and the child safe…even if I am probably the least qualified person to do that."

Ginny suddenly flung her arms around his neck, crying tears of what Neville hoped was happiness. He rubbed small circles on her back, and she finally sat back and wiped her eyes. Taking the ring from the box, she slipped in on her left ring finger.

"I can never repay you for this," she said softly.

"You already have," he answered honestly. "Come on, your family is probably dying to know what happened."

Ginny laughed, her smile finally reaching her eyes. "Yeah, they're probably all straining to hear from the kitchen." She grabbed Neville's hand, not seeming to care that it was all sweaty.

She paused just outside the door. "Ready?" she asked. Neville nodded, and Ginny opened the door.

As expected, everyone was congregated near the door trying to appear casual. They all looked up as Neville and Ginny entered. Someone coughed.

"So, how was the garden?" Ron asked a little too loudly. Hermione elbowed him.

Ginny raised her left hand, and there were immediately bombarded with hugs and pats on the back. Neville was slightly disconcerted but recovered quickly. He figured he needed to get used to this, since it seemed he would soon be a part of the Weasley family.

He finally managed to pull away, and Ginny joined him near the fireplace.

"Sorry about that," she said with a grin.

"That was nothing." He leaned in quickly and kissed Ginny's cheek. "Now I have to go home and tell my gran."

* * *

A/N: In the next chapter (which should be out Monday or Tuesday), Neville's gran finally makes her appearance. Please review - reading your comments, good or bad, makes my day!


	4. Talk Tonight

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to JKR. I just like messing around with her creations.

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Chapter Four: Talk Tonight

"You're what?" Augusta Longbottom said sternly.

"Engaged, Gran. To Ginny Weasley," Neville said slowly. He still had trouble believing it himself.

He had arrived home and, as expected, his gran had asked what had taken so long at Diagon Alley. He'd hemmed and hawed trying to think of something to tell her when he accidentally blurted the truth without buttering her up first.

"You're not even eighteen yet!" his gran exclaimed. She still sounded completely shocked, but Neville could tell she was starting to put things together. Her sharp eyes fixed on Neville shrewdly. "Is the girl pregnant?"

Neville sighed, but there was no use denying it. His grandmother would figure it out eventually. "Yes, she is."

Mrs. Longbottom gave a great, wheezing gasp and put a hand to her heart. Neville was just glad she was already sitting down. "Neville, I have never been so ashamed of you. I did not raise you to behave this way. What will people say? _What would your parents say_?"

_Great_, Neville thought, _a lecture I don't deserve._

"Are you even sure the child is yours? You're much too young to get married, especially if you're not completely sure. Have you had a test done? They can do those at St. Mungo's, you know."

This was a snag Neville had not expected, although he didn't appreciate his gran insinuating that Ginny was that type of girl. He decided it was best if she didn't know the whole truth. "We don't need a test, Gran. The child will have my name," he answered honestly.

His gran appeared to accept this. "Well, the Weasleys are good people, at least. I can't say I completely approve, but under the circumstances you really don't have much choice."

She paused and rose from her chair, one finger prodding Neville's chest. "I want to meet this girl. Invite her over for dinner tomorrow night," she said finally. "I do hope you know what you're doing, young man. What a scandal…tarnishing the good family name." She continued mumbling under her breath as she walked away, leaving Neville alone in the lounge.

"Well, that could have gone better," Neville said to no in particular. The portrait of his Great-Great Uncle Egbert nodded.

* * *

"Are you sure you should wear your dress robes, Ginny?" Molly asked, frowning. "Aren't they a little short?"

"That's what the lace is for," Ginny replied, tossing a length of white lace on top of the sea-green robe. "Neville said his grandmother expects everyone at her dinner table to be dressed properly, and it's either this or that awful gold thing I wore at Bill and Fleur's wedding."

"Oh, all right." Her mother performed the necessary sewing charms to add the ruffled lace to the bottom of the robes. "How are you getting there?"

"Neville gave me the Floo address. Help me with this zipper," Ginny said, holding up her hair.

Molly zipped up the robes quickly, then turned Ginny to face her. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"What choice do I have?"

"Your father and I could work out something with the Ministry if you chose not to get married…it would make things more difficult, but I know you'd manage. And Tonks says they've already managed to round up a few Death Eaters, and you could always go into hiding for awhile if necessary. So I'll ask you again – is this what you want?"

Ginny was silent for several moments. "Neville is clumsy and forgetful," she said finally. "He never did particularly well in school, except for Herbology. He's a horrible dancer and he has the lowest self esteem of anyone I've ever met."

She sighed and unconsciously smoothed the fabric of her robes over her still-flat abdomen. "He is also loyal and hardworking. He has a quiet inner courage. He doesn't really have a temper, and he is always kind and helpful. I'm sure he would be a wonderful husband…and father." Ginny grew very quiet and directed her gaze at the floor.

"But he is not Harry," her mother said softly.

Ginny shook her head, a pained expression on her face. "He is not. But he doesn't need to be."

Molly wiped a tear from her eye and enveloped Ginny in a warm hug. "The last of my babies is all grown up," she whispered.

Smirking, Ginny pulled away. "I don't know about that…you still have Fred and George, after all."

Shaking her head in exasperation, her mother shooed her towards the door. "Go on, now, you don't want to be late."

Ginny hurried downstairs to the fireplace and grabbed a pinch of Floo powder. She called out the Floo address firmly, and, after several dizzying moments, she landed in a richly furnished room with high ceilings and large windows.

Neville jumped at the sight of her, even though it appeared he had been pacing in front of the fireplace in anticipation of her arrival.

"H-hi Ginny. You look really nice," Neville said, his face pink. He ran his eyes over her as though he were studying something. "Are those the robes you wore to the Yule Ball?"

Ginny was surprised. "You remembered that?" she said, impressed. Neville nodded and took her hand.

"I know I wasn't the best dance partner, but I had a lot of fun that night," he said as they walked towards the dining room.

Ginny did not respond, seeing as she had more or less ditched Neville at the Yule Ball to spend time with Michael Corner. Instead, she looked around at the house Neville had grown up in. It was of decent size but not extravagant. She noted that Neville's grandmother must have somewhat eccentric taste, as there seemed to be a large collection of ugly antique statues and vases.

Mrs. Longbottom was already seated at the table when they entered. Before Neville led Ginny to her chair, he quickly lowered his mouth to her ear.

"Remember, she thinks I'm the, uh, biological father. It's better this way," he whispered. Ginny blanched, wishing Neville had remembered to tell her this earlier. She would have to exercise caution when speaking.

"Gran, this is Ginevra," Neville said formally.

_Since when does Neville know my full name?_ Ginny wondered as she nodded politely to Mrs. Longbottom. "I'm very pleased to meet you," she said, hoping her voice sounded sincere. She sat down opposite Neville at the table and unfolded her napkin.

"I've seen you before. You were at St. Mungo's on Christmas two years ago, and you also took part it that little adventure at the Ministry," Mrs. Longbottom stated. "Weren't you Neville's date to the Yule Ball, as well?"

Ginny nodded and forced a smile. She supposed it was a good thing she and Neville had actually had a somewhat real date in the past. It provided more of a foundation for their lie.

Neville passed Ginny the platter of roast beef, and she passed him the bowl of potatoes. She handed the bread basket to Neville's grandmother after taking a small piece herself. Despite the tense atmosphere, the meal looked delicious, and Ginny realized she was positively starving.

Ginny was barely halfway through her roast beef, however, before Mrs. Longbottom set down her fork and looked between Neville and Ginny.

"You know, Neville, you never even told me you were seeing someone," his grandmother remarked.

"It must have slipped my mind, with the war and everything," Neville answered. He seemed to have rehearsed his answers.

Ginny looked down at her plate and began to butter a piece of bread very deliberately. Clearly, Neville's grandmother wanted to discuss "the incident," and Ginny wasn't sure she could handle it.

"I really like that blue vase in the corner, Mrs. Longbottom. Is it a family heirloom?" Ginny attempted.

Mrs. Longbottom was not to be deterred. "So you saw the war as an excuse to be loose with your morals, Neville?"

Ginny choked on her bread. She hastily gulped some water as Neville looked on concernedly.

Apparently unaware of Ginny's plight, Mrs. Longbottom barreled on. "At least you already have a job, Neville. I don't know what you would do if you hadn't finished Hogwarts yet." She paused, her brow furrowing. "You know, I thought the Weasley in your year was a boy."

She turned to Ginny, a look of disbelief on her face. "Are you still in school?"

Ginny suddenly felt like a slag.

"Gran, do we have to talk about this?" Neville asked quietly.

Mrs. Longbottom narrowed her eyes. "I believe I have the right to learn more about the girl my grandson plans to marry."

"Ginny is a wonderful person, Gran, and I care for her deeply. Yes, we are a little young…but in the end, does that really matter?" Neville had a slightly shocked look on his face, as though he couldn't believe his own audacity.

Before that moment, Ginny had not fully appreciated just how grown up Neville had become. He was a far cry from the timid doormat of years past.

"We are not done discussing this, young man," Mrs. Longbottom said firmly. "There is a proper procedure that must be followed in these circumstances, and that requires my knowledge about what happened."

Neville stood up abruptly. "Thank you for dinner, Gran. I should get Ginny home." He grabbed Ginny's hand and pulled her to her feet.

"Neville, dinner is not over!" Mrs. Longbottom said, her tone that of someone who was not accustomed to being crossed.

"I'll be back later," Neville said as he walked back towards the fireplace, Ginny in tow.

"Thank you for the lovely evening, Mrs. Longbottom," Ginny called over her shoulder. She caught one last glimpse of the sputtering older woman before they reached the lounge.

"I'll Floo right after you," Neville said. Nodding, Ginny grabbed some Floo powder and shortly found herself back in the Burrow.

Ron was seated at the table with a Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook lying open in front of him, though he seemed to be paying more attention to the leftover shepherd's pie he was eating. He looked up at her, grinning.

"Get out of here, Ron, Neville's coming," Ginny hissed.

"I'm not leaving you in here alone with him!" Ron exclaimed.

"Oh honestly," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "Neville and I are engaged, and in case you forgot, I'm already pregnant. Get out. Out!" She shoved Ron out the door, book in hand.

Neville arrived a few seconds later. "I am so sorry, Ginny," he blurted.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Ginny said. She took out a couple of bowls and a large leftover dish of her mother's homemade bread pudding. "I expected it, really, and it is, after all, mostly my fault. You didn't deserve any of those insults she threw at you."

"I've never stood up to her before," Neville said, a slightly nauseated look on his face as he helped himself to some bread pudding. He laughed suddenly, his face breaking into a wide grin. Soon, Ginny found herself laughing as well.

The hilarity continued for several more minutes, during which Ginny's mother poked her head in the doorway and smiled. Ginny caught her eye and smiled back. After all, things were much better than they could have been.

* * *

A/N: Please let me know what you think of Mrs. Longbottom here. We haven't seen her much in the books, and I definitely have my own take on her, so I'd love to hear everyone's opinions. Reviews make my day! 


	5. The Meaning of Soul

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter and related characters, places, names, etc.

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Chapter Five: The Meaning of Soul 

Neville tried to appear confident as he walked the halls of St. Mungo's. He was not a Healer or anything important, just an herbologist, and a trainee one at that. His job didn't even involve any potions work – which was good, as he didn't even have an O.W.L. in potions. So far, his main responsibility was to care for the magical and non-magical plants needed by the Pharma-Potionsmasters, although he had been told that he would be assigned to more research jobs once he had some experience.

He smoothed the fabric of his sand-colored training robes and pushed open the door to the Closed Ward. His department was located on the ground floor in a barely-adjacent building, so he rarely needed to venture into the main part of the hospital. He didn't recognize the Healer on duty, but she looked friendly enough.

"Hi, I'm Neville Longbottom," he said as he approached the desk.

The Healer looked up at him and grinned wryly. "Yes, I can see that," she replied, pointing to his robe. He belatedly remembered he was wearing a name badge as a part of his uniform. "The other Healers said you usually only visit during the holidays, with your grandmother."

"Yeah…well, I have some things to tell them." Neville shifted uncomfortably and tried to remember why he had decided this was a good idea. He normally hated watching his parents and wondering what they might have been like.

He walked down to the end of the room, thankful for the privacy curtains. It felt sort of weird to be there without his gran. He pulled a small bag of candy from his pocket, even though it was typically his gran who brought candy, and set it on the small table that separated his parents' beds.

His dad was playing with what looked like a Muggle child's toy pinwheel. He didn't look up when Neville entered. His mother, however, smiled at him, though out of recognition or simply because she was glad to see another person Neville couldn't tell. Neville liked to think she knew who he was, but the Healers had always told them this was unlikely. His mother might recognize his face but she would never _really_ know who he was.

Alice immediately picked a piece of candy out of the bag and shuffled back to her bed, her eyes staring into nothing.

"Hi Mum, Dad. Gran says hello," Neville said softly. Neither of them seemed to acknowledge his voice. "I have some things I wanted to tell you by myself, though, so it's just me today."

"I turn eighteen today. Gran's planned a party, to celebrate my birthday and my new job…but she doesn't know I know." His father set down the pinwheel and walked over towards the window. Neville faltered a bit but continued talking. "I'm getting married in two weeks. Gran has warmed up to the idea, I think. My fiancée is Ginny Weasley; you would like her. I hope you would, anyway."

Neville glanced back around the privacy curtains to check that the Healer was out of earshot. "I really love her, you know. I'm not sure she knows that. I hope you wouldn't think I'm stupid for marrying someone who's still in love with someone else, no matter that the someone else is dead. I'm still not sure how I should approach her…if it's even okay to talk about him, or if it's still too soon. I just hope we can learn to trust each other before the baby gets here. Imagine that, me trying to play the part of someone's dad."

Neville paused and glanced at his mother. Alice smiled and leaned over to pat his hand. Neville choked back his tears. "I'm working here, you know. Gran was surprised I got such a good job. It's nothing like being an Auror, but I like it so far."

He turned to leave, thinking he had babbled enough already, but then he noticed his mother's outstretched arm. She smiled widely and dropped the Droobles Blowing Gum wrapper into his hand.

Neville felt suddenly compelled to do something he couldn't remember ever doing before. He flung his arms around his mother's scrawny neck and hugged her fiercely. He repeated this with his dad, though neither acknowledged their son or returned the hug. Somehow, though, just talking to other people, even if they didn't respond, had lightened his heart a bit about Ginny. Feeling oddly comforted, Neville waved goodbye and resolved to visit more often.

* * *

Neville arrived at his "surprise" party to find his gran deep in conversation with Mrs. Weasley. Ginny's mother had initially disagreed with the half-truth Neville had told his grandmother, but she had finally agreed it was best for the time being.

"My gran has a lot of friends," Neville had explained. "She'll talk, and someone will find out." He hoped Mrs. Weasley was keeping to her promise, but he didn't feel like interrupting the two just yet.

It looked like the entire Weasley family was in attendance, minus Charlie, of course, and that one Head Boy Neville hadn't really liked. A few of his classmates were there, as well as the usual smattering of Longbottom relatives and his gran's friends. He was slightly uncomfortable with all the noise and people; he had never had a birthday party this large before.

Seamus and Dean cornered him near the punch bowl, identical curious looks on their faces. "Colin told us you're marrying Ginny Weasley," Dean stated, his tone somewhat cold.

"Yes, I am," Neville replied, wondering how Colin had found out. It didn't take him long to figure it out – Luna must have told him.

"We heard she's pregnant, too," Seamus said with a smirk. "Why didn't you tell us you were shagging her?"

"I don't think that's any of your business," Neville said a little too quickly. He turned around to find Luna, only half-hearing Dean's belated "Happy Birthday!"

Hermione grabbed his arm before he got very far. Neville started to protest, but she held firm.

"I already talked to Luna and Colin. They said they hadn't told very many people. Besides," she added, lowering her voice, "everyone Luna told, including Colin, thinks the child is yours, which is what we want. Don't worry about it; enjoy your birthday."

Neville mingled a bit, trying to follow Hermione's advice. He said hello to the rest of the Weasleys, who had all been very welcoming. His Aunt Agatha pounced on him at one point, giving him a huge sloppy kiss on his cheek and congratulating him on his "fancy new job." Aunt Agatha smelled like sour milk and wore a bright purple hat with a stuffed parrot on it at all times, even indoors. She was also every bit as overbearing as his grandmother, although not quite so condescending.

He was about to stop by the table where most of his gran's friends were seated, but changed his mind after hearing snippets of their conversation.

"No, I haven't actually seen the poor girl anywhere."

"-couldn't believe it, Augusta always said he was a good boy."

"Did you know the girl's still in school? He's completely ruined her chances at finishing her education."

Swallowing hard, Neville turned around so quickly he nearly lost his balance. He marched towards the food table and stuffed his face with a bit of everything before stopping to catch his breath and think about what he had just heard.

He had known people would react badly to his and Ginny's situation, but he had not expected to take the blame for ruining her life. It was a strange feeling to be accused of something he hadn't done. Normally when someone, usually his grandmother, told him off or criticized him, he deserved it. He hoped Ginny hadn't heard any of this talk, as it was likely to upset her. Sighing, he licked his sticky fingers and tried not to draw attention to himself.

Instead, he tried to focus on how nice it had been of his gran to throw him this party, really. Despite everything, she had done everything possible to make today special for him, which he appreciated. The food really was quite good, and it looked like he had received a lot of nice presents, too. However, he couldn't stop thinking about Ginny. The look on Dean's face had been murderous and had made Neville feel like he was using her, and his gran's friends had made him feel like a criminal.

He hadn't actually seen her anywhere. She hadn't been feeling well lately, and while Mrs. Weasley had assured him it was normal he still didn't like it. He had taken to eating dinner with the Weasleys a few times a week, and Ginny always looked like she was either about to throw up or burst into tears at any moment. The worst thing was, he felt as though there was nothing he could do to help.

Finding Ginny, though, would at least give him an excuse to escape the noise for a little while. He scanned the crowd in search of his soon-to-be mother-in-law. Groaning, he realized she was still speaking with his gran.

"The wedding definitely has to be close friends and family only," Mrs. Weasley said as his gran listened attentively. "Arthur and I figured it was better to wait until Ginny was of age – less paperwork, fewer questions. You said Neville's Great-Uncle Algie could perform the ceremony?"

"Yes, he's Ministry certified. Have they talked to you about where they plan to live? I'd like them to stay with me, but Ginny will probably want to be near you until the baby is born," his gran said matter-of-factly.

Neville cleared his throat. A part of him resented how much his gran and Mrs. Weasley were interfering. This was definitely not what he thought weddings were supposed to be like. After a few seconds he cleared his throat again, and this time both women looked up at him expectantly. "Is Ginny around?" he asked.

"She wasn't feeling well; I sent her upstairs to lie down," his gran responded. Neville headed for the stairs immediately.

Ginny wasn't in the guest room, so Neville headed to his own bedroom. He hoped she wasn't in there, as it was kind of a mess. When he opened the door, however, he could see her sitting at the window. She looked somewhat forlorn, and Neville approached her cautiously.

"Gran told me you were up here," he began.

Ginny turned to face him. "Oh, yes. She's getting used to me, I think." Ginny stared down at her hands, and Neville moved to sit next to her.

"What's wrong?" he asked. He moved to cover her hand with his own, then stopped halfway. She needed a friend, not a fiancé.

Ginny rose from her seat and began pacing. It was still impossible to tell she was pregnant just by looking at her, although she did have a sort of glow about her. Neville sat in silence, content to watch her. Suddenly, she paused and picked up a photograph of himself and his Gryffindor roommates, taken by Colin Creevey in sixth year.

Her fingers gently traced the figures in the photograph. Picture-Harry was elbowing Picture-Ron, and Picture-Seamus was giving Picture-Neville bunny ears while Picture-Dean laughed. They all looked happy, completely uncaring about their troubles and unaware of the hard times that lie ahead. It was one of Neville's favorite keepsakes.

"Harry would have been eighteen tomorrow," Ginny said softly, breaking into his thoughts.

Neville cursed himself for forgetting. Of course she would be out of sorts today. He had no idea what to say, so he simply moved to put his arms around her.

She pulled away and sat down on his mostly made bed. "He never told you, did he?"

Puzzled, Neville shook his head. "Never told me what?"

"You remember that prophecy, the one that smashed in the Department of Mysteries?" Ginny asked.

Neville nodded; he wasn't likely to ever forget that night.

"Dumbledore was the one who heard the prophecy originally, and he told Harry about it...and Harry told me after I coaxed it out of him. It said the one who could defeat Voldemort would be born at the end of July eighteen years ago. His parents would have defied Voldemort three times. The prophecy went on to say that the Dark Lord would 'mark him as his equal,' and Voldemort chose Harry when he gave him the scar, but it could have been – "

"Me," Neville finished. He was silent for several moments, lost in thought. He wondered if this prophecy had factored into his parents being targeted by Bellatrix Lestrange and her Death Eater mates. That thought wasn't particularly comforting, though – it just meant that his parents were in St. Mungo's because of him.

"I wish it had been me. I never really had parents anyway, and then Harry could have lived," Neville said finally. "Except Harry was a better wizard than me…I don't think I could have killed V-voldemort. I still have trouble saying his name…"

Ginny was crying now and Neville found himself starting to tear up, too. They sat on his bed, the photograph lying between them, almost mocking them with the happiness it contained. Neither spoke for nearly ten minutes, when someone suddenly knocked on the door.

"Neville, there you are!" his gran exclaimed. "I've been looking all over for you; you're being extremely rude to your guests. This is _your_ party, after all. Come back downstairs."

His grandmother didn't seem to have noticed that he and Ginny both had tears on their faces, or even that Ginny was also in the room. Neville hesitated, but Ginny simply nodded. It was clear to him that she wanted to stay upstairs, alone.

"Hurry up!" his gran said, motioning him towards the door. Sighing, Neville prepared himself to make the rounds again…he probably wouldn't escape talking with his gran's friends this time.

He chanced a glance back at Ginny, who was staring at him intently. "Neville," she called softly.

He was almost out the door, but poked his head back inside as his gran started down the stairs. "Yes?"

Ginny fixed her eyes on him, as though imploring him to listen. "You shouldn't wish it had been you. Harry wouldn't have wanted you to feel that way…and neither do I."

* * *

A/N: Thanks to all my readers and especially my reviewers! Your comments always make me smile.


	6. I Hope, I Think, I Know

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter still isn't mine.

* * *

Chapter Six: I Hope, I Think, I Know

Neville had never attended a wedding before and had no idea if it was normal to be this nervous. He sweated profusely in his brand new midnight blue dress robes as he paced around the twins' old room at the Burrow. He couldn't believe this was actually happening; surely useless, round-faced people like Neville Longbottom didn't marry smart, beautiful people like Ginny Weasley. If he made it through the day without fainting it would be some sort of miracle.

Of course, the Weasley brothers weren't much help. Fred and George kept offering him sweets to "relieve nerves," and Neville was somewhat insulted that they thought he was _that_ thick. Bill repeatedly assured him that he would be standing by with his wand, just in case Neville needed to be Ennervated. Charlie and Ron had both laughed at this, and the teasing continued until their father entered the room.

"Boys, stop pestering the man on his wedding day. Neville is family and should be treated as such." Mr. Weasley paused, glancing around at his sons, who were snickering. "Scratch that; treat him _better_ than you treat your family."

"But Dad, where's the fun in that?" Fred protested.

"Yeah, I thought Bill made a very fetching kitten on _his_ wedding day," George added. Bill, however, didn't look remotely amused.

Mr. Weasley shot the twins a warning look before turning to Neville.

"How are you feeling, son?" he asked, an anxious look on his face.

"It…it doesn't feel real yet, sir," Neville managed.

"Stop with all this 'sir' nonsense…you're family," Mr. Weasley said firmly, clapping Neville on the shoulder.

Neville fidgeted from his seat on the bed and frowned. "In name only," he whispered before he could stop himself.

Mr. Weasley jerked his head towards the door. His sons apparently got the message and stumbled out of the room. Taking a seat on the bed, Mr. Weasley sighed.

"I know this situation is somewhat…unorthodox. Circumstances haven't allowed Ginny time to really mourn. You'll need to continue giving her space," Mr. Weasley said wisely.

Neville was silent. He knew Ginny needed time to mourn; he wasn't stupid. He just wondered how long they would have to live together before Ginny acted like they were married. This wasn't a subject he was about to discuss with her father, though – he suddenly wished he could actually talk to his own dad.

"Ginny wouldn't have to get married, you know. It would be much more difficult and dangerous, of course, but Molly gave her the choice two months ago," Mr. Weasley said finally. "She wants to marry you, which bodes well for the future, I think."

Neville still felt like he was going to be sick. Mr. Weasley must have noticed this, because he continued talking. "You know, I don't think Molly and I would have stayed married as long as we have if we weren't such good friends. Friendship is important in marriage, just as important as love, in my opinion."

Neville smiled then, finding some of his nerves to be gone. He and Ginny did have friendship, and that was something. He had every reason to be optimistic, really.

"Come on," Mr. Weasley said, tugging Neville's sleeve. "Let's get you married."

* * *

Looking back, Neville thought, the ceremony had been much better than he expected. Mrs. Weasley had arranged everything in the garden, much the same as it had been for Bill and Fleur's wedding, according to Ron. Ron and Hermione served as best man and maid of honor, respectively, which Neville had appreciated. It was a wonderful feeling, really, to have those two rally behind Ginny and himself.

Surprising himself, Neville hadn't stumbled as he made his way to the altar. He had glanced down at Bill to see the older wizard with his wand at the ready, but it turned out that Neville didn't need it – though he had thought he would when he saw Ginny.

She had been completely breathtaking in cream-colored dress robes trimmed with green. A wreath of flowers was set on her head, her thick hair flowing down in loose curls. Neville had been touched to see her wearing the freshwater pearl necklace he had gotten her for her birthday.

She had squeezed his hand encouragingly as her father gave her away. Mr. Weasley had kissed his daughter's cheek with tears in his eyes, lingering just a bit before joining his wife.

Neville was so busy looking at Ginny he hadn't been able to pay much attention to what Great-Uncle Algie said – it was a civil ceremony anyway and the words weren't very poetic. He had remembered his vows without any prompting, however, and had managed to look Ginny in the eyes when speaking. He hadn't fumbled with the ring when Ron handed it to him, and when he leaned in to kiss Ginny she hadn't resisted. It was little more than a formality, but it was enough to fill Neville with happiness and make his toes tingle. Ginny had smiled at him then – a clear, happy smile that made him realize everything really would be all right.

Mrs. Weasley and his gran both cried loudly from the front row. The Weasley brothers had all rolled their eyes at this display, though Neville swore at least Bill's eyes looked a little misty, too. Ron and Hermione had exchanged glances first with each other and with Neville and Ginny, and Neville saw that Hermione was smiling through traces of tears. Professor Lupin had looked at him fondly, and that Auror with the pink hair and weird name had smiled widely. So many people believed in them, it seemed.

At the far edge of the garden, for just a moment, Neville thought he could see a skinny figure with unruly dark hair smiling and nodding. When he looked again, though, the image had disappeared – it must have been a trick of the light.

* * *

"Ginny? Neville? Just one more picture, please?" Colin Creevey begged, holding up his camera. He hadn't officially been invited, but Luna had dragged him along.

Ginny sighed and leaned in closer to Neville. He could tell she was getting tired, but Neville knew he wouldn't get out of dancing that easily.

Floating lights of all different colors lit up the makeshift dance floor in the yard. Mrs. Weasley had prepared a feast that could have fed at least twice as many people as were actually there. Hermione had charmed a Muggle CD player to work without electricity, and she had put herself in charge of selecting appropriate wedding songs. She seemed to be having trouble keeping Mr. Weasley away, but she was laughing as he pestered her with questions.

What struck Neville as interesting was the fact that several partygoers, namely the scattering of Order members, treated the wedding reception as an excuse to finally celebrate the final destruction of Voldemort. The end of the war had been bittersweet, and no one who had known Harry well had celebrated at all. Instead, it was this day, August fifteenth, two months after Harry's death, that they finally rejoiced Voldemort's defeat.

"Is something wrong, Neville? You looked pretty far away just then," Ginny commented.

Neville shook his head and pulled Ginny close. "I think they're waiting for us to open the first dance. I'll try not to step on your feet this time."

Hermione smiled at Neville and Ginny as they approached the dance floor and changed the song to something slower. Neville's face flushed as he felt every eye in the room turn to him. He clung to Ginny nervously. They were dancing so closely together, in fact, that he could actually tell she was pregnant, when it was still impossible to notice just by looking. She rested her head on his shoulder as they swayed back and forth. This was much different than the formal dancing at the Yule Ball, and Neville realized he actually sort of enjoyed it.

"May I cut in?" Mr. Weasley asked after the third song ended. Neville let go of Ginny, who was immediately wrapped in a hug from her father. It was only then Neville realized that more people had started dancing.

Neville tried to get another glass of champagne, but he was interrupted by his gran. She held him at arm's length and surveyed him critically. He wasn't even embarrassed when she kissed his forehead, especially since she had swapped her vulture hat for a tamer one decorated with a small collection of fake grapes.

"You really are all grown up," she said gruffly. His formidable grandmother rarely displayed emotion, and today was only the third or fourth time he had ever seen her cry. He supposed it meant she was truly happy for him.

He and his gran danced for a bit, and Neville learned where he had inherited his atrocious dancing skills. His Uncle Marcellus soon cut in, though, and he found himself dancing with Hermione.

"Ron abandoned me for the food," she remarked with a laugh. "He claims his leg is still too injured for dancing, which is rubbish, of course."

Neville laughed at that, and Hermione sighed. They danced in silence for a few moments, and Neville noticed that either Fred or George was dancing a bit too vigorously with Ginny, who looked less than thrilled. Hermione's eyes followed his, and she smiled.

"She'll be all right, you know. I think she cares for you more than she is allowing herself to acknowledge," Hermione said quietly. "He really respected you…I know he would have approved." She kissed Neville's cheek and went off to drag Ron away from his fourth piece of wedding cake.

After dancing with his Aunt Agatha, Ginny again, and finally one of his cousins, he settled at the head table, where a bedraggled-looking Ginny was now drinking from a goblet of pumpkin juice. "I've danced with all my brothers except Ron, who's being a prat, been kissed by Auntie Muriel and cried on by my mum. I'm ready to sleep for three days," Ginny said with a groan. Neville nodded; the party was beginning to die down anyway.

"Come on," Neville said as he helped her up. He kept his arm around her as they walked back into the house to loud, inappropriate catcalls from the twins.

As his gran had expected, Ginny wanted to stay with her mum during her pregnancy, so Neville had moved into the Burrow by necessity. He hoped to have saved enough money to put a down payment on a house by January – he really didn't want to move back into his gran's house with his wife and Harry Potter's baby.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had seemed to understand that Ginny would need some space, so most of Neville's belongings were in the twins' room. He ducked inside to change out of his robes before joining Ginny in her bedroom.

His face reddened at the thought of actually sharing a room with Ginny. He knew the marriage needed to be as real as possible…he wanted it to be as real as possible…but the prospect made him extremely nervous. He was completely torn between what his heart and body told him he wanted and what his head told him Ginny needed. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door.

"Come in," Ginny said, her voice muffled. Neville opened the door to reveal Ginny wearing conservative pyjamas and sitting on top of a flowered quilt. She looked extremely uncomfortable as she played with the purple bow tied around the neck of a rather raggedy-looking stuffed cat.

"Um, hi," Neville mumbled, feeling suddenly naked in his flannel pyjama bottoms and T-shirt. The easy companionship they had shared since Hogwarts had seemingly evaporated.

"I'm really tired," Ginny said as she scooted over to the right edge of the bed. She placed the cat in the center.

"I'll just, um, sleep on the floor…or I could go back to the twins' room. I'm sure Ron's told you I snore, anyway," Neville said, his confidence ebbing completely.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "There's room for both of us on the bed, Neville…and I don't care if you snore." She rolled over on her side and faced the wall.

Unsure, Neville gingerly climbed into the bed, noting that the stuffed cat created an effective barrier. He leaned over to kiss Ginny goodnight, but she shifted just a bit at the last minute and he only caught the side of her mouth. Blinking, he settled back to his side of the bed, overwhelmed with emotion and just a little bit mad at himself. He couldn't push her. Turning over on his right side, he tried to get comfortable and closed his eyes, but it was no use. He was definitely going to need a long, cold shower come morning.

* * *

Ginny stared at the window, her eyes fixed on the slant of moonlight shining in through the flowery curtains. It seemed almost unnaturally quiet, which told her Neville was lying awake, too.

She couldn't quite believe that she was now Mrs. Neville Longbottom. Two months ago she had been completely in love with Harry Potter, somewhat despite herself. It had been especially cruel that her two worst suspicions were both confirmed on the same night.

Her mother had yelled, then been condescending. Her father was afraid for her safety. Her brothers alternated between sympathy and a desire to resurrect Harry so they could kill him personally. Hermione had drawn up a complicated at-home study schedule, most concerned that Ginny wouldn't take her N.E.W.T.s.

Through it all, Neville had been a quiet presence, being her friend without trying to tell her what to do. She couldn't help but love him after everything he had done for her, but she wasn't in love with him. That would almost be a betrayal of Harry's memory. Even the chaste kiss concluding her wedding had sent Ginny into a spiral of memories. Now, lying in the darkness, she couldn't help but think of the recklessness of that night, the feel of the grass under her fingers, the sense of freedom and completeness that she wasn't sure she'd be able to find again.

"Can't sleep either?" A voice broke into her daydream.

Ginny rolled over on her other side to see Neville's concerned face, which was partially obscured by Kitty. "Too much on my mind, I guess," she said softly.

"I know what you mean," Neville replied as he propped up his head with one hand. "Do you want to talk? Or maybe I can go downstairs and get you something to drink?"

Ginny giggled. He really was adorable. "I don't need anything to drink, thanks. I'm just really warm and I can't get comfortable – but that's not your fault," she amended, seeing the apologetic look on Neville's face. "I haven't slept well since I first suspected I was pregnant, and of course it doesn't help that it's summer. I don't know how I'm going to survive five more months of this."

Neville sifted in the bed, looking uncomfortable. "Well, it will be autumn soon…and I'll help you as much as I can." He grinned suddenly as he played with Kitty's purple ribbon. "After all, that's part of my job as your husband, right?"

Ginny gasped softly at hearing him actually say the word. Neville, too, seemed surprised at his own statement. They lay in awkward silence for some time until Neville yawned hugely. At last, Ginny heard the sounds of gentle snoring, and she was glad that he, at least, had found sleep.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading, and as always, I'd love to hear what you think. 


	7. Little By Little

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter does not belong to me.

* * *

Chapter Seven: Little By Little

Over the next few weeks, Neville fell into a routine. Mrs. Weasley made breakfast for him before work, usually consisting of more food than he could actually eat. Work was interesting, especially since he had been promoted from trainee status a week after the wedding. After work he returned to the Burrow, alternating between losing to Ron at chess and helping Ginny study. Dinner was usually a loud affair, filled with laughter and stories. Neville felt like part of a real family, and he found he enjoyed it more than he would have believed possible.

Soon, Neville realized he had been married for a month. He and Ginny had lost some of their awkwardness, but Neville spent many nights in the twins' room. When he did share Ginny's bed, the worn grey stuffed cat was always in the bed between them. He didn't even feel like he was married, most days. The fact might have slipped his mind entirely if it weren't for two things – the gold wedding band on his left ring finger and Ginny herself, who was always in his thoughts.

One day, towards the end of September, Neville had to work late. When he finally arrived back at the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley already had dinner ready.

"Oh, there you are, Neville. Could you go tell Ginny dinner's ready?" Mrs. Weasley asked kindly. Neville hung his cloak on the hook and nodded, heading for the stairs.

Ginny wasn't in her room, though, nor was she in "his" room. He continued climbing the stairs, finally reaching Ron's violently orange room. Amid the clutter and Quidditch paraphernalia sat Ginny with tears running down her cheeks. A vaguely familiar trunk was opened on the floor in front of her, and Neville realized she was looking through Harry's things.

"Ginny? Are you okay?" he asked softly. He then remembered that she had visited the Healer-midwife today for a check-up. "How was your appointment?"

"Fine," she said dully as she fingered a bit of silvery fabric. "It's a boy. I decided I didn't want to wait to find out."

Neville smiled widely, but this quickly turned into a frown as Ginny let out a choked sob.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I never used to cry so much…but I can feel the baby move now, and I can't stop thinking about…about…and I know it's not fair because you've been so sweet, but – " She broke off and picked up a book Neville recognized as the one Harry had always flipped through when he thought no one was looking.

A beaming man with dark hair and glasses stood with his arm wrapped around a smiling woman with dark red hair. A giggling baby squirmed in her arms as the man gently poked his nose. Neville turned a few pages to see three best friends dressed in Hogwarts robes and laughing. He saw a copy of the same picture he himself owned, the one of the Gryffindor boys in his year. Flipping to the last page, he found a picture of Harry and Ginny, their arms wrapped around each other as they sat in front of the common room fire. Neville remembered that moment; Colin had taken the picture.

He set the album back in the trunk and pulled Ginny into a hug. "Come on, let's go get some dinner."

Ginny nodded and shut the lid on the trunk. Neville helped her shove it back under Ron's bed before they left the room.

"Thank you for understanding," Ginny said as she wiped her eyes.

Neville took her hand as they walked downstairs. He wasn't quite sure, but he believed Ginny had begun to heal.

* * *

Slowly, Ginny began to return to her usual bubbly self. Neville was relieved; it was hard to be around weepy Ginny without growing frustrated or depressed. As autumn continued Ginny truly began to glow.

The Burrow seemed unusually quiet as Neville climbed the stairs after work in late October. He found Ginny seated at her desk, poring over a stack of papers.

"Where is everyone?" he asked.

Ginny looked up from her work, her eyes blurry. "Bill and Fleur both caught some sort of virus at Gringotts, so Mum's at their flat shoving soup down their throats. Dad had to work late, and Ron's out with Hermione. Since Mum won't be here to make dinner, I told Fred and George not to bother coming over."

Nodding, Neville peered down at Ginny's desk. "This doesn't look like homework."

"It's not," Ginny said with a sigh. "I got sick of Potions so I decided to finally have a look at my finances and such. Bill took care of my portion of the will originally, so I hadn't realized just how much money it was."

Neville took the piece of parchment from her and glanced down at the numbers. His eyes widened. "I had no idea Harry had this much money."

"He was the sole heir to both the Potter and Black fortunes," Ginny explained.

"But still…this is…I mean…" Neville mumbled, feeling suddenly poor.

Laughing, Ginny shifted some more parchment. "That was my reaction, too. The thing is, he wasn't able to get a hold of his full Potter inheritance until he turned seventeen. This included the vault with all the heirlooms and such. He divided everything up pretty evenly, look."

Neville unrolled the parchment and cleared his throat. "I, Harry James Potter, being of sound mind and body – "

"That's debatable," Ginny interrupted with a snort. Neville raised his eyebrows but continued to read without saying anything.

"So," Neville said after several minutes, "you got most of his money."

"Yeah. Ron and Hermione got most of the Potter property, and Remus Lupin inherited the Black family home. Fitting, since he's living with an outcast of the Black family now. Fred and George inherited James Potter's old pranking notebook and some gold for the shop. My mum and dad got some gold and most of the Potter heirlooms – the jewels, china, stuff like that. He also managed to find Sirius Black's old flying motorbike, and he gave that to my dad. I thought Mum was going to have a conniption."

Ginny continued to rattle off the contents of the will, which she seemed to have memorized. Neville's attention was drawn to something at the bottom of the scroll. It had been written seemingly as an afterthought, and the ink wasn't quite as dark.

"'To Neville Longbottom,'" he read, "'I leave my christening blanket.' How weird…it's almost as if he knew…"

"Hermione told me that wasn't a part of it originally when she checked it for him last March," Ginny said as she handed Neville a folded bit of slightly faded white fabric with blue trim and embroidery. "It was added later."

Neville ran a hand over the soft, almost fuzzy blanket. He traced the initials embroidered in one corner, feeling as though something was caught in his throat. It looked as though the blanket had been slightly singed on one end and then repaired, and he realized with a small shock that it must have been recovered from the house after the night Harry's parents died.

"You know," he said finally, setting the blanket aside," you haven't told me what you're going to name him."

Ginny looked up, all thoughts of finances seemingly forgotten. "Not Harry. Or Sirius. And that's about as far as I've gotten."

"Well, I've always liked the name Trevor."

"Neville, you had a toad named Trevor, I am not…" she trailed off, finally catching Neville's grin. "You prat!"

She punched his arm playfully, and he responded by softly tickling her side. She ran to the bed to get away, laughing hysterically as she curled up into a ball. Neville tossed Kitty at her, and the ragged grey thing landed on her face. She threw it to one side and pulled Neville down on the bed next to her. He lost his balance, though, and ended up nearly on top of her, their faces mere inches away.

Neville's lips had barely brushed Ginny's before he moved away and scrambled to get up off the bed. "Sorry," he mumbled quickly, straightening his clothes.

Neither of them said anything for several moments, until Neville's stomach rumbled loudly.

Laughing, Ginny combed her hair with her fingers. "There's a nice little restaurant down in the village. We could walk, and then we wouldn't have to cook anything."

Neville was glad for the change of subject. "Sounds good to me. Do you need time to get ready?"

Ginny glanced down at her striped maternity blouse and black trousers and shrugged. "I'm good. I'll just grab one of my brothers' jumpers."

Neville dashed into the twins' room to fetch his Muggle jacket before joining Ginny downstairs. She had donned a lumpy maroon jumper that obviously belonged to someone much taller than her, as the sleeves were several inches too long.

"Ron's," she said ruefully as she rolled the sleeves. "He rarely wears his, as he hates maroon. I don't know why Mum always makes his maroon."

"She always made one for Harry, didn't she?" Neville mused. "I remember him wearing them."

"Yeah, he always seemed to appreciate them more. Probably had more to do with the gesture than the actual jumper," Ginny said softly.

The village of Ottery St. Catchpole wasn't too far, and it was a nice evening for a walk. The country air was crisp and clean, and a gentle breeze caused the fallen leaves to dance lightly around their feet.

"What do you want to do as a career, Ginny?" Neville asked as they made their way down the road.

"I don't know, really. I thought about being a Healer, but that's a lot of extra training. McGonagall told me last year I might have a shot at professional Quidditch, but that never really interested me," Ginny said thoughtfully.

"I think you would be a great Healer," Neville said. "Is there a particular branch of Healing you're interested in?"

"Well, yes," Ginny said, looking uncomfortable. "Hermione told me about this Muggle thing called psychiatry. It deals with mental problems – a combination of counseling and medication. I think we could use that in the magical world…I know I could have after my first year."

Ginny had grown very quiet. Neville really didn't know much about what had happened to her that year, only that it had something to do with the Chamber of Secrets. He didn't press her, figuring it wasn't something she liked to discuss.

"Here we are," Ginny said. She had stopped in front of a small, pleasant-looking building with lacy curtains in the windows. "I haven't been here in years. We came here a couple times for my dad's birthday – it was a big treat for him, going to a Muggle pub."

Neville grinned and held the door open for Ginny. The hostess seated them immediately and handed them small cardboard menus.

"I'll have water, please," Neville replied when asked what he wanted to drink. He had no idea what types of beverages were served in Muggle restaurants. Ginny then ordered something called a Sprite, which he figured she must have heard about from Hermione.

"Would you rather live in the country or the city?" Neville asked as they waited for their drinks.

"A decent-sized city, I think," Ginny said, her brow furrowed. "Nothing like London, but something more than, say, here."

Neville nodded. "Yeah, that's what I thought, too. Where is Ron and Hermione's property?"

"Close to Oxford, actually."

Neville opened his mouth to respond, but the waitress had returned with their drinks. She turned to Ginny with a pad of paper in her hand.

"I'll have the steak-and-kidney pie, please," Ginny said.

Neville ordered fish and chips before turning back to Ginny. He sipped his water thoughtfully.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. My gran holds this horrible Halloween party every year, and she'll expect us to be there. I haven't gone to one in years, because of school, but I was usually the only person there under the age of fifty," Neville said.

To his surprise, Ginny didn't make a face of disgust. "Are we supposed to wear costumes?"

"You mean like Muggles?" Neville said without thinking. He glanced around, but the small pub was crowded enough that it was unlikely anyone could hear their conversation. "No, it's formal wear. I have the afternoon off tomorrow; we can go to Diagon Alley and find something," Neville said, picking up his fork in anticipation as the waitress set down his place.

"It just seems like a waste to buy a maternity dress robes," Ginny said after the waitress had left. She cut into her steak-and-kidney pie and looked up at Neville. "Not like I'll have much change to wear it."

Neville took a large bite of fish and said nothing. He finished eating rather quickly, but his stomach fell as the waitress returned with the bill.

"Ginny," he whispered, leaning across the table. "Do you have any Muggle money?"

Ginny let loose a string of words Neville was more accustomed to hearing come out of Ron's mouth. She glanced at the bill, then at Neville.

"Give me some Galleons – I got Bill to teach me the money changing spell a couple years ago. I'll just go to the loo for a bit."

Neville slipped Ginny his change purse under the table. She hid it in the long sleeves of Ron's jumper before heading to the loo. Neville felt foolish sitting at the table by himself, so he pretended to drink from the now empty water glass. Unfortunately, he was spotted to the waitress, who came to refill his glass.

"When is your wife due?" she asked pleasantly.

"What? Oh, January," he said sheepishly.

"I don't think I've ever seen you before," she continued. "Did you recently move to the village?"

"No, we're, uh, here on holiday," Neville replied. How long did this spell take? It seemed like Ginny had been in the loo for hours.

"Must be nice to be able to go on holiday like that. It's not even summer," the waitress continued. "Where are you from?"

"Blackpool," Neville muttered. That wasn't exactly a lie – he had grown up near Blackpool.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Neville. This baby is sitting on my bladder, I swear," Ginny said. She flung her arm around his waist as he stood, discreetly dropping his money bag into his pocket.

Neville picked up the bill and counted out the appropriate amount of pounds, leaving a little extra for the tip. He grabbed Ginny's hand and hurried out of the restaurant, only stopping when they reached the outskirts of the village.

After catching her breath, Ginny burst out laughing. Neville was horrified, but the look on his face seemed to make Ginny laugh harder.

"Oh, that was hilarious," she gasped finally. Neville looked at her in disbelief. "I haven't had such fun in a long time. Thank you."

She took Neville's hand again as they walked back to the Burrow. As the sun set over the horizon, she leaned over and kissed him.

* * *

A/N: This is one of my favorite chapters in the whole story, so I hope you enjoyed it. Reviews make my day! 


	8. Some Might Say

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to JKR, not me.

* * *

Chapter Eight: Some Might Say

"Well, she looks far too young to be having a child; she looks like she should still be in school," a middle-aged witch dressed in elegant robes whispered to her friend.

"They look younger every day. Makes me feel old," her friend whispered back.

"Of course…red hair…she's probably a Weasley," the first woman said disdainfully as they continued walking down Diagon Alley.

Neville had to restrain Ginny. "She has no right to insult me or my family. Let me go, I'll Bat-Bogey Hex her into oblivion."

"Ginny, I know. Let's just go get your robes," Neville said softly. Ginny finally relented and marched towards Madam Malkin's.

Sighing, Neville followed her. She had been distant since she had kissed him the night before. They hadn't talked about it afterwards, just retreated to their separate beds. Neville still felt like he couldn't rush her into anything, married or not. His face heated at the thought.

Ginny was already in the queue to be fitted by the time he entered the crowded shop. He groaned inwardly; he hated crowds and he hated shopping and those nosy women had put him in a bad mood.

After several eons, Ginny came up to him with an ocean blue robe in her arms. "I need to get some air. Be a dear and pay for this?"

Neville took the robe and headed to the counter. The older witch standing in front of him turned back and smiled at him.

"Congratulations," she said, pointing to the robe.

"Oh…thanks," Neville said, surprised.

The woman continued to look at him, straining her eyes just a bit as though she were searching for something. Neville shifted his left hand to get a better grip on the robe.

"Oh good, you are married. You look so young; I had wondered," the woman said. "Glad to know young people haven't lost all sense of propriety nowadays."

The woman spoke as if this was a great compliment, but Neville hated how Ginny's pregnancy made older people think they had every right to stare and offer their opinions. Wasn't there such a thing as privacy?

When it was his turn, he set the robe on the counter, feeling more annoyed than ever. The saleswitch looked at him curiously.

"You're Neville Longbottom, aren't you? I'm a friend of your grandmother's," she said, speaking as though Neville were a very small child.

Neville suddenly recognized her as one of his gran's most obnoxious acquaintances. She had been one of the worst ones at his birthday party. Sighing, he shoved his hands in his pockets and said nothing.

"Heard all about your little indiscretion, but at least you made an honest woman out of the poor girl after sullying her reputation," the woman continued as she wrapped up the robe. "I suppose this is for Augusta's Halloween party? I'm surprised she's letting you come."

Neville plonked his money on the counter and left the shop, fuming. He wondered if people would say such horrible things about Harry and accuse him of ruining Ginny's life if they knew the truth. Somehow he doubted it...it would probably be the other way around.

"What's got you all hot and bothered?" Ginny asked as Neville approached the bench she was sitting on.

"Nothing," Neville said.

"Was someone rude to you in the shop? I thought I recognized one of the saleswitches as a friend of your gran's."

"Don't worry about it."

Ginny huffed. "You don't need to protect me, you know. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I really would have hexed those other women if you hadn't stopped me."

"It wasn't a big deal. Older people just like to think they know everything," Neville said. He really didn't want to get into this in the middle of Diagon Alley, and he couldn't tell her what was really bothering him, anyway. "We can Floo from your brothers' shop."

"You think I'm some weak little girl, don't you?" Ginny retorted. "You can't treat me like a little sister, I'm your wife!"

"Then you should stop treating me like one of your brothers!" Neville said before he could stop himself. Ginny stared at him, aghast. "I don't see what the problem is. Let's just get out of here," he said quickly, hoping she would ignore his earlier words.

"You're shutting me out, that's the problem! I want to know what's bothering you," Ginny said, hands on her hips. Neville was suddenly reminded of Mrs. Weasley.

"It isn't something you need to know," he said firmly as he started walking towards Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

Ginny hurried up to him and pulled on his sleeve. "You're acting just like Harry used to," she said in an accusatory tone.

"Isn't that what you want?" Neville said. Immediately after he said it, he clamped his hands over his mouth.

Eyes widening, Ginny backed away from him. She shook her head slowly as she continued down the street.

Neville watched, feeling terrible and completely hopeless as she walked away. "Ginny, wait! I'm sorry, I didn't mean it," he called, but it was too late. She had disappeared into her brothers' shop. Hanging his head, Neville headed back to the Leaky Cauldron, stumbling just a bit.

Two steps forward, three steps back. He couldn't believe he had said that to her – his frustration was messing with his mind, making him speak without thinking. He supposed playing the gentleman was getting to him, but he had not intended to hurt her. He knew she didn't want him to be like Harry – what a stupid thing to say. Kicking himself mentally, he ignored the looks of passers-by as he slumped into a booth and ordered a drink. Going home was the last thing he wanted to do right now.

* * *

Neville and Ginny didn't speak hardly at all the rest of the week. They avoided each other whenever possible around the Burrow, and Neville found himself offering to stay late at work. If the Weasleys noticed anything they didn't say. Neville just didn't know how to fix things, so he was hoping giving Ginny time to cool off would do the trick.

The day of the party finally arrived, and Neville wore his grey robes. He hadn't wanted to spend the money on new dress robes. He was extremely nervous; it would be the first time he faced his gran's fussy friends since his rather sudden marriage, and he knew they would notice if he and Ginny weren't getting along.

"Well, let's get this over with," Ginny said, looking as nervous as he felt. She had put up her hair in some sort of twist thing, and her robe was perfect. Neville's stomach fluttered, but he forced himself to think of something else.

His childhood home was decorated lavishly with candles and pumpkins. Soft music played from the wireless, and giant platters of food were set out on one table. Witches and wizards dressed in their best robes milled about, many holding goblets of mead or small glasses of Firewhiskey. For a moment, Neville could almost pretend he was back at Hogwarts.

"Ooh, trifle, I've been craving that," Ginny said, detaching herself from Neville and making a beeline for the food table. Neville sighed and looked around for his gran.

"Neville, where is Ginevra? I wanted to introduce her to my friends; it's less of a scandal if we do not treat it as something to be ashamed of," his gran stated. She was wearing a rather ugly long violet dress with a fur stole, paired with her usual vulture hat.

Neville sighed; even his gran seemed determined to treat them like misbehaving children. "Ginny's getting some trifle," he said. "And she doesn't need to be insulted again…by you or by your nosy friends…could you please stop calling this a scandal? The Weasleys don't do that."

His gran opened her mouth as though she were going to reprimand him, but then closed it again, pursing her lips. She looked at him thoughtfully, then gave a rare smile.

"Glad to see the pup is finding his bark, Neville," she said before turning back towards her friends.

Neville stood in stunned silence for several moments. He was reminded of the time after fifth year, when she had been proud of his actions at the Ministry. His grandmother praised him so infrequently he never knew quite what to think when it happened.

Ginny approached, looking slightly happier. "This is delicious," she said, holding a plate full of every dessert at the party. She jerked her head towards a far corner of the room. "Could I talk to you for a minute?"

Neville nodded and found a couple of empty armchairs situated behind a large urn. He said nothing as he stared at his shoes.

"I'm really sorry about what happened the other day, Ginny," he said finally.

"That's why I wanted to talk to you…I overheard what you just said to your gran, and I get it. I know how hard this has been for you and I appreciate you standing up for me, really. I just want you to know that you can talk to me…we're in this together, remember?"

Neville shrugged. "I'm just trying to make things better for you."

"You are, Neville. I've just always hated feeling left out and being told not to do certain things…blame it on six older brothers," Ginny said softly.

"I didn't intend to keep anything from you…you were already so upset about what those other women said about your family, and I didn't want to worry you by telling you how insulting my gran's friend was," Neville explained.

Ginny just nodded. "I had already figured that was what happened, which is why I think I got so mad. I told my mum about it, and she said she used to bite my dad's head off every thirty seconds when she was pregnant. I know that's not an excuse, but…I'm sorry."

"It's really all right. I don't want to fight with you, Ginny."

"I don't want to fight, either." They shared a smile and Neville reached over and took her hand in his. She looked around the room. "Should we mingle a bit?"

"No, let's just sit here, enjoy our food, and let people come to us," Neville said. He rose and got himself a plate of meat pies and several varieties of dessert before returning to the corner to sit with Ginny.

Over the next few hours several people came to offer advice and congratulations. Neville was surprised by this; he had expected more disdainful looks and thinly-veiled insults. However, nearly everyone was being perfectly pleasant. One of these was Griselda Marchbanks, who walked right up to Ginny and smiled.

"I do hope you still plan to sit your N.E.W.T.s. You're a brilliant girl, you know, I remember from your O.W.L.s. Don't let anyone tell you you can't do something just because you have a baby. It's practically the twenty-first century, after all," she said before turning to Neville. "You take care of her, Mr. Longbottom."

Neville nodded and smiled as Madam Marchbanks walked away. "I knew I liked that woman," he said.

Ginny, too, looked noticeably happier. The rest of the evening passed by quickly, and soon it was nearing eleven o'clock. Neville could tell Ginny was getting tired, and surely no one would notice if they left a little early.

Neville returned with their cloaks to find Ginny's hands folded over her distended belly, a faraway look on her face. "What is it?" he asked gently.

"It's kicking. Here." She took his hand and placed it on her abdomen. After a few seconds, he felt the tiniest of movements.

"It feels real," Neville said. Ginny giggled as he placed her cloak over her shoulders. "That sounds stupid, doesn't it?"

"No…I feel the same way," Ginny said in a low voice.

"Are you leaving, then?"

Neville hadn't even heard his gran approach. He nodded, fastening his cloak.

His gran nodded curtly. "Well, it was good to see you. You don't visit enough."

"The party was lovely, Mrs. Longbottom. We had a great time," Ginny said cordially.

Neville was impressed with Ginny's acting ability; this was obviously exactly what his gran wanted to hear. His gran had the hint of a smile on her face as she leaned over to kiss Ginny's cheek. Ginny returned the gesture before leading Neville to the fireplace.

Ginny went up to bed as soon as they got home, but Neville sat down in the kitchen, his mind a jumble of thoughts. He fixed himself a mug of tea, only burning his finger once, and sat down at the kitchen table. After sitting alone for a few minutes, her heard the scrape of a chair net to him and turned to see Ron standing there smiling.

"Mind if I join you?" Neville shook his head, and Ron fetched himself a mug.

"How was the Halloween party?" Ron asked as he dumped half the sugar bowl in his mug.

"I had forgotten how boring those were. Ginny enjoyed the food, at least," Neville said with a slight grin.

"Yeah, she's beginning to rival me at mealtimes," Ron said, laughing. "I heard about your little Muggle dinner adventure the other night."

Neville groaned and covered his face with his hands. "Don't remind me."

"Ginny seemed to find it amusing."

"Yeah, that's because Ginny was in the loo performing probably-illegal spells on wizard money while I sat at the table fielding personal questions from the waitress." Neville tried to look indignant, but his face cracked as Ron practically fell out of his chair laughing. "Okay, it was pretty funny, I guess."

It took Ron a few minutes to calm down. "Seriously, though, Neville," he said finally. "You've really changed – for the better, I mean. Ever since fifth year…"

"Thanks," Neville replied. "I know I'm not really good enough for your sister, but I'm trying."

"Ginny is lucky to have you. Me and my brothers all agree. Not many guys would do what you're doing."

Neville shrugged and sipped his tea. He still felt awful about the little row in Diagon Alley, even if Ginny seemed to be past it. "When do you start Auror training?" he asked, feeling a need to change the subject.

"January ninth. I can't wait; the twins are running me into the ground." Ron had taken a temporary job at the shop after his mother got tired of him hanging around the house. "They keep bugging me to slip something to Ginny…they want to test some products on a pregnant woman."

Neville was horrified, although he knew Ginny was not an easy one to fool.

"Either Mum or Ginny would've killed me," Ron continued, "and Fred and George knew it, which is why they haven't tried anything themselves. Dumb gits."

Neville was forced to agree, even though he knew Ginny probably would have ended up getting the upper hand. She seemed to have a way of making her brothers do whatever she wanted. Grinning, Neville sipped his tea as Ron got up to get himself a biscuit before returning to the table.

"Have you talked to Hermione lately?" Neville asked, partly out of curiosity and partly to see Ron's reaction.

Ron's ears turned pink. "Um, yeah. She seems to like her job. Of course, she can't say much about it," he said, sounding frustrated. "It's kind of funny that both of us ended up working for the Ministry, really. But things are improving – people generally realize how much they owe to Dumbledore and Harry. There are still prats around, of course…people like Percy who crawled so far up Fudge's arse they haven't figured out how to get back." Ron paused, as if realizing exactly what he had said. Neville laughed weakly, more at Ron's stunned face than anything else.

"Well, I'm knackered. Nice talking to you, Neville," Ron said, Banishing his mug to the sink. Neville poured himself another cup of tea and stared out at the star-filled sky.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers! I hope all the Americans had a happy Fourth of July! 


	9. The Importance of Being Idle

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling.

* * *

Chapter Nine: The Importance of Being Idle

Neville prodded the bubotuber gently with his left hand as he held the pus collection bottle in his right. Bubotuber pus was something the hospital kept in constant supply, although obtaining it was a task that usually fell to the least-seniored person in the Herbal Lab – namely Neville. He didn't mind, really. Further advancement within his department would come with time and dedication.

"Didn't you have somewhere to be, Longbottom?" his supervisor, Mr. Marks, asked.

Neville glanced down at his wrist and saw that his Forget-Me-Knot had turned blue. What did blue mean again? Meeting…no…appointment! Neville suddenly remembered that Ginny had a Healer-Midwife appointment today, an appointment she wanted him to attend.

"Thanks for reminding me. I was about finished with the bubotubers, anyway," Neville said. Whipping off his apron and gloves, he hurried towards the maternity clinic on the other side of the hospital.

"You made it!" Ginny said as he entered the office, red-faced and out of breath.

"Yeah…just remembered a bit late."

A young witch with a clipboard appeared in the room. "Ginny Longbottom?"

Neville started just a bit at hearing Ginny called by his last name, but he shook it off and followed her down the hall.

The woman with the clipboard took Ginny's weight and temperature before leaving them alone in the room. Ginny suddenly looked embarrassed as she held up a short yellow gown.

"I have to change," she said.

"Oh! Right." Neville turned towards the wall, humming nervously as he stared at the posters on the wall. It took him a second to determine that the moving figures depicted the various stages of fetal development.

"Can you tie this for me? I got the bottom one, but I can't quite reach this one," Ginny said. Neville turned to see her struggling with the strings of the gown. Gulping, Neville quickly tied the gown together at the nape of her neck before retreating back towards a chair he assumed was for him.

Neville suddenly found the room to be almost unbearably warm as he stared at Ginny, who was reclining on the examination table with her legs bent at the knees. She looked extremely uncomfortable, but she didn't say a word as they waited for the Healer-Midwife to appear. Neville hoped the woman would hurry up – he wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to be alone with Ginny without wanting to kiss her.

Fortunately, they didn't have to wait long. An older woman with short blondish-grey hair entered the room, a smile on her face. "You must be Neville," she said. "I'm Lucy Greenfield. I've been looking forward to meeting you."

"Nice to meet you, too," Neville said, shaking the woman's hand and hoping he looked like he belonged.

Madam Greenfield then asked Ginny a series of questions before examining her middle. "Everything seems to be perfect…let's just listen to the heartbeat, shall we?" She rubbed some sort of lotion on Ginny's bare belly and touched her wand to it carefully. Suddenly, a soft whooshing noise filled the air, though Neville thought he could distinguish a heartbeat.

"Wow…" he whispered, almost in disbelief.

Madam Greenfield glanced at him. "I'm going to show you an image of the baby now. Since you only have two months to go, we should be able to get a fairly clear picture. Would you like to come stand at the head of the bed, Dad?"

Ginny gave Neville a pointed look. "Dad…right, that's me," Neville said, clumsily getting out of the chair. Madam Greenfield just smiled, as though she was used to dealing with nervous new parents.

A bubble appeared above the bed, and inside the bubble there was a three-dimensional, slightly fuzzy image. Madam Greenfield, whose wand was still touching Ginny's belly button, pointed at the image with her free hand.

"This is the baby's head, and you can see one of his hands, and his feet. Everything looks good, Ginny," Madam Greenfield said.

Neville watched in awe as Ginny grabbed his sleeve. Looking down at her, he could see tears in her eyes. On impulse, he leaned down and kissed her forehead.

The image suddenly disappeared and Madam Greenfield settled herself on a stool. "All right, then. Just a few more questions and you'll be on your way." She pulled out a clipboard and a small stack of pamphlets. "Here is some information about birthing options, breastfeeding, how to make your magical home safe for baby, things like that. Are you still planning to have the baby at home?"

"Yes, my mother had all of us at the Burrow and I trust her," Ginny said.

"Okay…we'll talk about that more at your appointment next month. If I know your mother, I'm sure she has all the necessary items ready, anyway," Madam Greenfield said. "Out of curiosity, do you have a name picked out yet?"

Neville and Ginny exchanged a glance. "No. To be honest, we haven't thought about it much yet," Ginny said.

Madam Greenfield looked surprised at this. "Well, you still have time to figure it out. I usually tell couples to have a few ideas going in, otherwise you might end up with spur-of-the-moment names you may not be happy with later."

She asked a couple of questions about Ginny's diet before looking back up at both of them. "All right, I'll see you back here in a month. You're doing everything right, Ginny."

"Thank you, Madam Greenfield," Ginny said with a smile.

After Ginny changed, they left the office. Neither of them spoke…Ginny still had a dreamy look on her face and Neville was content to let her be with her thoughts for awhile. They walked down the hall towards the main part of the hospital, and Ginny started looking through her pile of pamphlets.

"You know," Neville said quietly as they reached the end of the queue for the hospital's main Floo connection, "my mum's dad was named James."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Ginny asked distractedly. She was still leafing through the pamphlets Madam Greenfield had given her.

"I mean…we could name the baby James…and no one would guess that he was named for his real father and grandfather…since my granddad had the same name," Neville explained.

Ginny just stared at him.

"It's just an idea…I mean, I was just thinking about it since Madam Greenfield asked, but yeah."

"That's a really nice idea…I hadn't even thought…" Ginny paused, swallowed, then continued. "I mean, I guess it didn't occur to me that there might be a way to name him after…"

Ginny stopped walking and speaking at the same time, her hand at her mouth. Neville stopped walking, too, and reached out to her slowly. She grabbed his hand and looked at him seriously, her eyes red.

"You really think it's a good idea? Won't people ask questions?"

Neville shrugged. "We'll just tell them it's a family name. I mean…it is, right?"

Ginny flung her arms around his neck, scattering pamphlets everywhere. "James would be perfect," she whispered.

* * *

"How was your appointment, Ginny?" Mrs. Weasley asked that night at dinner as she passed the bowl of bread to Ron.

"It was good. Madam Greenfield says everything looks perfect."

"Well, that's good news!" Mrs. Weasley peered at Ginny's plate. "Shouldn't you have more vegetables, dear?"

"I've been following the diet Madam Greenfield set for me, it's fine," Ginny said. "We talked about that today, actually, and she said the baby and I are both in excellent health."

"It's just so important to get your vitamins," Mrs. Weasley said. She picked up the spoon for the dish of carrots. "One more spoonful, maybe?"

"Mum, I'm fine. I have plenty of carrots."

"When I was pregnant I took a tonic every day to supplement my diet," Mrs. Weasley stated, still holding the spoon.

"I'm on a vitamin potion, I don't need anything else," Ginny said, stabbing her roast beef rather forcefully.

"I could whip up that tonic really quickly, dear, it wouldn't be any trouble at all," her mother added.

Neville thought Ginny's face was going to explode. "I…don't…need…any…tonic."

"Well really, Ginny, I have much more experience than you in this area, and I would think you would appreciate – "

"I can't take this anymore!" Ginny shouted, getting up from her chair as quickly as possible. This was somewhat of a challenge, as her belly got in the way, but she finally managed it and stood with her arms crossed. "Stop telling me what to do!"

Mr. Weasley looked shocked at his daughter's outburst. "Now, Ginny, your mother is just trying to help."

"I don't need to be treated like a child," Ginny said. "I'm going upstairs." With that, she stomped away. She paused only to pick up her Transfiguration book, which was sitting next to the kitchen sink.

"Ginny, you should let Neville get that for you, it's too heavy," Mrs. Weasley called.

"Mum, it's a Transfiguration book, not a hippogriff. I can carry my own book up the stairs." Harrumphing, Ginny turned so quickly she looked as though she might fall over. For several seconds her loud, stomping footsteps could be heard on the rickety stairs.

Neville and Ron shared a quick glance before turning back to their respective dinner plates. Laughing would just make the situation worse, but Neville was straining on the inside to avoid it.

Mr. Weasley, however, was unsuccessful, as a small chuckle escaped from his throat. His wife glared at him, and his chuckle immediately turned into a hacking cough.

"Honestly," Mrs. Weasley said. "I'm just concerned about her. She's been so stressed with her schoolwork, among other things, and I'm only trying to help. It is so terrible of me to worry about the health of my daughter and grandson?"

"Of course not, dear. We all understand…but you know Ginny. She's just being stubborn about it," Mr. Weasley said gently.

"She told me you've been a great help to her since the beginning," Neville inserted.

Mrs. Weasley brightened a little at that. Seemingly satisfied that Ginny still relied on her advice, she returned to her dinner. Ron brought up Quidditch, and the rest of the meal continued with a debate over the Cannons' chances at the league title.

After dinner, Neville helped Ron with the dishes. Once everything was washed and dried, he went upstairs to find Ginny. She was seated at her desk, furiously scribbling away on a roll of parchment, her Transfiguration book propped up against a flower vase.

"Hi," he said cautiously. "Is this a bad time?"

Ginny waved her wand and the door shut behind him. "Sit down," she said. Neville quickly obeyed, not wanting to test her patience any more today.

Neville didn't say anything as Ginny rolled up her parchment and slammed her textbook shut. She rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"I just can't stand it anymore," she said with a quiet intensity. "Mum is driving me absolutely mad. I know she's gone through this six times and raised seven kids, but I'm not completely incompetent, either. We have got to get out of this house once the baby's born."

"I agree," Neville replied.

Ginny didn't hear him. "I mean, I can see it already," she said, affecting her mother's voice. "'Ginny, dear, you're holding him wrong. Ginny, you shouldn't feed him that way. Ginny, you should let me tell you how to do everything because I don't think you have any motherly instinct at all."

"I'm sure she wouldn't be that bad…but I agree, we need to move out," Neville repeated.

Ginny stared at him. "How are we going to afford that?"

Neville just smiled. He didn't want to ruin the surprise he was planning for Christmas. "I'm working on it…but I can promise we'll be able to move out by February."

After hugging Neville tightly, Ginny's face grew more serious. "That sort of leads to something else I was wondering about. I mean…speaking of overbearing maternal figures…have you told your gran the truth yet?"

Neville shifted uncomfortably. "Not yet. There hasn't been a good time."

"She's going to figure it out."

"I know," Neville said. "It's just…she's been so worried about the family reputation…if she finds out I damaged it not because I had to but because I wanted to I don't know what she'll say."

"She'll be proud of you, Neville," Ginny said sincerely.

"I doubt it," Neville said, hanging his head. "But I'll tell her. Soon. I promise."

There was a slight tapping on the window, and Neville saw a beautiful snowy owl hovering outside. Ginny opened the window and let the bird inside, untying the package attached to her leg.

"Isn't that Hedwig?" Neville asked. He felt suddenly stupid for never wondering before what had happened to her.

Ginny nodded. "Hagrid's looking after her. He's been sending me news from Hogwarts…and rock cakes." She held up one of the rock cakes with a small smile and shook her head. "Not much of a cook, Hagrid, but he does try so hard."

"What sort of news from Hogwarts?"

Ginny unrolled the scroll. "Well, I get a biweekly update and lesson outline from Professor McGonagall, and sometimes other professors send things as well. Hagrid, however, has been kind enough to include information about how Quidditch is going, what the Halloween feast was like, what items from the twins' shop have been banned by Filch, things like that. It's just nice to feel…connected."

"I can understand that. That's really nice of him," Neville said. He had realized early on that Ginny was bothered by missing her last year at Hogwarts, even though she never said it aloud. This had probably also added to Mrs. Weasley's distress about the situation, as she now had four children who hadn't finished their Hogwarts education properly, no matter that Ron had taken the N.E.W.T.s and that Ginny would as well.

Ginny got Hedwig a bowl of water and an Owl Treat before sending her off. Neville picked up one of Ginny's pregnancy books as she returned to her studying. However, they hadn't been reading for very long before a voice called up from downstairs.

"Ginny! Are you in bed yet?"

Grabbing her wand, Ginny stomped over to the door, but Neville dove in front of her before she could open it.

"Somehow I don't think hexing your mother will make her less likely to tell you what to do," Neville said, holding Ginny's arms.

"You're probably right," Ginny said, lowering her wand. "She's just lucky she's my mother. Anyone else in this family who acted like that would have had their face covered in giant bat bogeys by now."

Neville laughed shortly and silently resolved, if at all possible, never to get on Ginny's bad side.

* * *

A/N: For those of you who may be wondering, I'm hoping to have this story finished by the time Deathly Hallows comes out. However, I will continue it either way. Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think! 


	10. Wonderwall

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

Chapter Ten: Wonderwall

As the days grew shorter, Ginny became more and more anxious. Sometimes it seemed as though she was comforted by Neville's presence, and other days he simply didn't know what to do for her and thus kept his distance.

She was clearly overwhelmed, between her schoolwork and preparing for the baby. Dark circles were a constant presence under her eyes. Molly was still on her all the time about nutrition and exercise and getting enough sleep, and Neville was waiting for the day when Ginny finally snapped and hexed her mother.

Neville finally decided during the second week of December that he would give Ginny her Christmas present early. He hoped it would cheer her up, especially since it had been difficult for him to keep it a secret this long.

"Where are we going, Neville?" Ginny asked. She wore one of Charlie's jumpers, which barely covered her rapidly expanding midsection, and her warmest cloak.

"Just Floo to Number Seven, Newberry Park," Neville said as he stepped into the fire. Coughing slightly, he disappeared into the green flames.

He straightened a few pieces of furniture as he waited for Ginny to arrive. He was suddenly nervous, worried that she would be upset about him doing this on his own. Before he had a chance to think about whether or not he could change his mind, Ginny landed in the fireplace.

"Where are we, Neville?" Ginny asked, looking around.

"Bristol," Neville answered with a nervous smile. "In our new house…if you like it, that is."

Ginny's eyes widened and she raised a hand to cover her mouth. "No…seriously?"

Neville nodded. "It needs a lot of work. The bedrooms need to be painted, the fixtures are all really old, and the kitchen floor is slightly sunken, but it should be ready for us to move in when the baby arrives."

Ginny ran her fingers over the fine, if slightly worn, oak of the mantle. "How can we afford this? Unless...you're using the money from..."

"No, we won't have to use Harry's money; I figured you'd want to save that for the baby's Hogwarts supplies and stuff like that," Neville said. "My Auntie Enid knew the person who lived here before us – a widow who's now moving in with her…daughter, I think. Anyway, she got me an amazing deal – I think the old owner is just trying to get rid of the place, since it'd be so hard to sell in this condition. I have some money saved myself, and my gran helped a bit…well, a lot...and your entire family has already agreed to help fix up the place. Your dad and the twins can do a lot of the refinishing…Bill agreed to set the wards…Ron's going to help me paint…"

Neville was cut off as Ginny flung her arms around his neck, laughing and smiling and crying all at once.

"You like it, then? Because it's not a done deal yet; I did want you to see it first," Neville said.

"Let's see the rest," Ginny said excitedly.

The staircase was located in the entrance hall between the lounge and the kitchen. The ground floor also had a small conservatory (though it was in disrepair from years of neglect), which was Neville's favorite part of the house. The first story held the master bedroom and two smaller bedrooms, and there was an unfinished attic. Ginny wandered around in awe.

"It's wonderful, but isn't it more than we need?"

Neville paused. "Well, maybe for now. But kids need a lot of space, and we'll have room for guests."

Ginny pulled back the heavy flowered curtains in the master bedroom and gasped. The room had a perfect view of the city, though the house itself was located a good distance from the city center. She looked back at him, her eyes twinkling.

"I love it," she said breathlessly. "I can't wait to leave the Burrow…make it harder for Mum to nag me constantly."

Neville laughed and kissed her forehead. "Happy Christmas, Ginny."

* * *

Neville awoke on Christmas morning to the smell of cinnamon and cocoa. Ginny was already gone and the sun had fully risen. Moving quickly, he pulled on a pair of trousers and a clean shirt and headed downstairs. He met a yawning Ron in the stairwell, and they entered the lounge together to much teasing about sleeping in late.

It was also much louder than usual, as most of the Weasleys had come for the holiday. He found a seat next to Ginny, who was already wearing her new, cream-colored jumper.

"Morning, Neville…just barely morning," she said with a grin, tossing him a soft package wrapped in brightly colored paper. He undid the wrapping to find a lumpy, dark blue jumper. A smile spread across his face as he held it up.

"Well, Neville, you're officially part of the family. Mum's knitted you a Weasley jumper," George said with a laugh.

"His doesn't have a letter on, though. Pity – dead useful if you happen to forget your name," Fred added, pointing to his own green jumper, which had a yellow 'F' knitted into it.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Neville said seriously as he slipped the jumper over his head.

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Molly, dear? And you're welcome," Mrs. Weasley said warmly.

The rest of the morning passed by quickly, full of laughter and good food. Neville and Ginny received many items for their new house, including a beautiful embroidered tablecloth from Fleur and Bill.

"I got ze pattern from my muzzer," she explained as Ginny admired the fine stitching.

Neville would have liked to stay all day, especially since Hermione was coming over later, but he knew he needed to meet his gran at St. Mungo's. To his surprise, Ginny stood with him as he prepared to leave.

"You don't have to come, Ginny."

"I want to," Ginny replied as she took her cloak off its hook. "Besides, it's only fair – you spent the morning with my family."

"But it's not like this," Neville said, aware that everyone in the room was listening carefully. "It's not fun…you don't want to see them…"

"Neville, you have no reason to be ashamed of your parents," Ginny said. "Let's go."

* * *

Neville had grown accustomed to St. Mungo's over the past few months, but he still visited this ward rather infrequently. He felt better about seeing his parents now, but he didn't think it would ever be easy for him. He trailed behind his gran and Ginny, who were talking about traditional Christmas puddings.

"Hello Mrs. Longbottom, Neville," the Healer said pleasantly. "Who is this young lady?"

"This is my wife, Ginny," Neville said, taking Ginny's hand.

The Healer smiled. "Nice to meet you, Ginny. It looks like congratulations are in order."

"Thank you," Ginny said, managing a small smile herself.

Neville's gran led the way through the ward, finally reaching the curtained off area. "Hello Frank, Alice," she said in a falsely cheery voice. "Happy Christmas."

Frank and Alice continued to stare blankly.

"Neville's brought his wife with him, isn't that nice? You're going to be grandparents, if you can believe that," she continued, her voice louder than normal. Neville slumped in his chair as Ginny looked on with tears in her eyes.

"Algernon and Enid are doing well…Enid just helped Neville buy a house. He's going to be living a bit further away from me than I would like, but of course we'll still come here to visit together on holidays." His gran always did this – updated his parents on the family and such things, speaking to them as though they were not actually there.

"You won't remember me telling you about the war last year, or about Neville's role in it. You'd be happy to know the war is over now, You-Know-Who was defeated by Harry Potter, who was the same age as Neville, you know. The Potter boy didn't survive, though, such a tragedy. You knew his parents, of course, James and Lily, and he was friends with Neville."

Neville glanced over at Ginny, who looked stricken by the sudden mention of Harry. His gran seemed to notice her reaction, too, for she frowned just a bit before turning back to Frank and Alice.

"Neville and Ginevra were at school when this happened, of course, or I'm sure they would have taken part. Ginevra is a Weasley; her brother was also friends with Harry. From what Neville has said, the entire family was always very welcoming of the boy, which I know would have made you glad to hear. You were both so worried about what would happen to the Potters' baby. The Weasleys have been treating Neville like family, too, since he's married their daughter and living at their house," his gran said. "I'm sure you would have accepted the situation as something Neville felt like he had to do."

Neville got the feeling his gran knew something was up, but he didn't dare say anything. From the way she was looking at Ginny, who had tears in her eyes and kept her hands firmly resting on her abdomen in a protective manner, it looked as though she was trying to solve a somewhat complicated riddle.

"Neville, why don't you tell your parents about your new job?" she said suddenly, still looking intently at Ginny.

"Um, okay," Neville said softly. His gran still didn't know that he sometimes came up here on his own, or that he had already told his parents about his new job, but it wasn't as though they really remembered, anyway.

"I work here in the hospital, in herbal research. I like working with plants, and it's nice to know that the work I do helps patients," he said, feeling rather stupid. One look at Ginny told him that she was no longer paying much attention but was instead lost in her own thoughts.

He stopped talking, then, feeling rather more distressed than usual. His gran turned to talking about the weather, and Neville and Ginny both sat there silently, neither daring to look at the other.

"Well, it's getting late, dears. We'll see you soon," his gran said after about an hour. "Yes, Alice?"

Neville's mum shuffled over to where he was sitting. She held out her hand, and Neville almost reluctantly took the candy wrapper from her.

"Thanks, Mum," he said in a strangled voice. For whatever reason, this was much harder than he had expected…harder than it usually was. He suspected it was because he was spending so much time around the Weasleys, coupled with the fact that Ginny was there looking sorry for him. This was why he had never told anyone at Hogwarts about his parents. Looks of sympathy were hard for him to deal with.

They took the Floo back to his gran's house for Christmas dinner. His gran didn't say anything about what had happened at St. Mungo's, and Neville didn't feel like getting into anything with her right now. Instead, he took Ginny up to his room while they waited for the meal to start. Ginny sat on his bed as he pulled down a large wooden box from his wardrobe. He opened it so Ginny could see.

"I've saved all of them. Isn't that stupid? Gran probably wouldn't like it if she knew I had all these; she always tells me to throw them away." The box contained a large quantity of sweet wrappers, mostly Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. He dropped in the latest one and shut the lid.

"I don't think that's stupid at all, Neville," Ginny said softly.

"Gran doesn't like to talk about it. The only time she mentions my parents it's usually in the context of me not being more like them. I just wish someone could really tell me what they were like," Neville continued, his tears flowing freely now.

"Maybe it's just too difficult for her to think about them all the time," Ginny said.

"Maybe. I hate it, though…I really hate it." Neville leaned forward, elbows on his knees and head in his hands.

"Sometimes," he whispered, "I just wish they were dead. Awful, right? But then I could just visit their graves, and not have to see their faces…their blank eyes that don't recognize me."

Ginny gingerly crawled over to him, putting one arm around his waist and pulling his head down on her shoulder. He felt like a fool, crying on Ginny like that, but he couldn't help it. Something had just…snapped.

"Thank you for listening," he mumbled finally, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "I've never told anyone that before." He broke away and stared intently into Ginny's eyes. "That's part of the reason I married you, you know. No one should have to grow up without a father."

* * *

"It was terrible, Hermione," Ginny recounted several days later. Hermione had the day off work and had come to talk and knit. "He just…cried. I felt like he had never cried for them before."

"Well, maybe he hasn't. He doesn't remember how they once were, and his grandmother doesn't seem to have reacted well," Hermione said as she eyed her knitting critically. "She still doesn't know the truth, does she?"

"Neville says he's going to tell her…but I get the feeling she's figured it out. She's far from stupid, after all." Ginny groaned and rubbed her belly. "And even if she hasn't figured it out yet, she will eventually – she's bound to notice the baby doesn't look like Neville."

"Everyone always said Harry was a carbon copy of his dad," Hermione pointed out.

"Ugh, I hope not. That hair…" Ginny fanned herself with a copy of _Witch Weekly_. "I just feel like he's ashamed or something, hiding the truth. Just like he was with his parents."

"I don't think he's ashamed…he was just never taught to talk about anything. It seems as though he and his grandmother have never had a real conversation," Hermione said. She had given up on her knitting, which was probably good. Her tiny baby hat was shaped more like a sock than anything else.

"That's another thing he mentioned, that he and his gran don't really talk much. She hasn't told him hardly anything about his parents…he knows less about them than Harry knew about _his_ parents, which is just ridiculous," Ginny said, frustrated. "Neville has more extended family members than he knows what to do with, and not one of them will tell him anything about Frank and Alice besides the fact that he's not as good a wizard as they were. Seeing him so lost and confused about the whole situation just makes me so angry."

Hermione was smiling, and Ginny shot her a puzzled look. "What?"

"Nothing," Hermione said, waving her hand. Ginny looked at her, exasperated, but Hermione remained silent.

"I don't think you need to worry about Neville being ashamed of you or the baby," Hermione said finally. "I think you're good for each other…and he loves you, it's so obvious."

"I know he does," Ginny said softly, a small smile almost unwittingly flashing across her face.

* * *

A/N: The baby will finally make his appearance in the next chapter. Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think! 


	11. Little James

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter does not belong to me.

**Warning: **There is a birth scene in this chapter, but it's not graphic by any means.

* * *

Chapter Eleven: Little James

Neville hated going to work now that Ginny was due to give birth at any time. He knew Molly was there with her, but it still made him nervous. Everything was ready – he and Ron had finished painting the house, they had all the necessary baby supplies and he had even scheduled some time off. He had nothing to worry about, really.

Except for the fact that he was terrified the arrival of Harry Potter's child would destroy the tenuous relationship he and Ginny had managed to build.

"Neville? There's a Floo call for you up front," the Research Department secretary said, poking her head inside the greenhouse. Neville dropped his trowel and rushed out of the room.

"There you are, Neville," Molly said, her face smiling in the fire. "Ginny's gone into labor – no rush, she still has several hours to go, but if you could get out of work early that would be great."

"Okay. I'll go talk to my supervisor, and…I'll be there. I will. Okay. Bye," Neville said, his hands shaking. He was so distracted as he ran back to the greenhouse he actually collided with his supervisor.

"Is something wrong, Longbottom?"

"Sir…Mr. Marks…my wife is in labor, and I need to – I mean, if I could –" he stammered.

Mr. Marks laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Go, Longbottom. And congratulations."

Neville figured he was too nervous to Apparate, so he took the Floo to the Burrow. He quickly shed his work robes and tripped up the stairs.

Ginny was propped up in the center of the bed, the expression on her face halfway between a smile and a grimace. Molly held a washcloth and was gently mopping Ginny's brow. Madam Greenfield stood nearby unpacking her bag. She turned when Neville walked in and smiled.

"Good, Neville, you're here. Now, did you want to stay in the room during delivery or wait outside?"

Neville looked at Ginny, feeling it was more her decision than his. "I want you to stay," she said through clenched teeth.

"Here you go, dear," Molly said, handing him the washcloth. "I should go contact the rest of the family."

Gulping, Neville sat down on the edge of the bed. He wasn't sure how he felt about staying the whole time, and this uneasiness doubled when Madam Greenfield lifted Ginny's gown to check her progress. He averted his eyes, his cheeks pink.

"Everything looks fine, Ginny, but you're progressing rather slowly. Best be prepared for a long night, okay?" Madam Greenfield said kindly.

Ginny just sort of nodded. Neville, feeling slightly queasy, looked out the window.

Molly returned a few minutes later. "Everyone knows now; I've sent out owls. How much longer, do you think?" she asked, turning towards the midwife.

Madam Greenfield rattled off some numbers and terms Neville didn't understand. He supposed he should have paid more attention to the books Hermione had found.

Ginny suddenly cried out and dug her fingernails into Neville's arm. He felt completely useless as the hours dragged on. Molly was there most of the time, and Hermione came in for awhile, and both of them knew a lot more than he did.

"Talk to me, Neville," Ginny said weakly about five hours in.

"About what?" he asked, feeling stupid.

"Anything, dear. Just distract her for awhile," Molly said gently as Madam Greenfield nodded her approval.

"Okay, well…I could talk about the house, I suppose. You know when Ron and I were painting we had a hard time with the wallpaper – the ugly stuff had been tacked to the wall with a Permanent Sticking Charm, we had to get Hermione to Transfigure it white and then we painted over it. We actually decided to just have Hermione Transfigure some of the wallpaper into, uh, less flowered wallpaper, at least the stuff in the kitchen and the bathroom. Your dad originally wanted to try painting the Muggle way, but after he fell off the ladder and nearly broke his neck he agreed using magic was better."

Molly laughed at this, and Ginny even had a small smile on her face. "Go on," she said, sounding strained.

So Neville continued to talk about the house, and his job, and Quidditch, until he felt himself going hoarse. By then it was completely dark outside, and from the attitudes of Molly and Madam Greenfield he could tell it was getting close. Ginny looked exhausted, and she was in a lot of pain if her screams were any indication. He mopped her forehead and allowed her to crush his hand, feeling very distanced from the action – almost like an intruder.

Madam Greenfield instructed Ginny to push, and Neville heard himself and Molly speaking words of encouragement. He didn't know what had prompted him to say anything, and he felt strange. All of a sudden, this seemed completely wrong – he shouldn't be the one sitting here getting his hand crushed, and he had no idea what to do with a baby, anyway.

"Ooh, I can see the head! That's a good girl, Ginny, you're almost there!" Molly said, nearly squealing with excitement. Neville decided it was better not to look; he was already feeling rather green and figured his fainting would not help matters any.

Suddenly, he heard a small cry. Madam Greenfield held up the squalling baby and laid him on Ginny's stomach. All Neville could tell was that he was small, red, and wrinkly as Ginny held her son for the first time. She was smiling widely through her tears, and Neville thought his heart would burst. On impulse, he leaned down and kissed her. To his surprise, Ginny kissed him back.

Madam Greenfield quickly cleaned off the baby and wrapped him in clean linen. Then, since Molly was still tending to Ginny, she handed the small bundle to Neville.

"Here you go, Dad," Madam Greenfield said, smiling.

Neville thought he would drop the baby, he was shaking so badly. He leaned down so Ginny could get a better look at her son. She laughed as the baby waved his little arm, and suddenly, Neville felt like a father.

* * *

"So, what's his name?" Arthur asked as he took a turn holding his grandson.

Ginny glanced at Neville, who nodded. "James," she said. "James Albus Longbottom."

Molly burst into tears (of happiness, Neville hoped). Arthur nodded approvingly and caught Neville's eye as he handed the baby back to Ginny. His expression conveyed what Neville knew he couldn't say aloud.

"So," Fred said, bounding into the room. "George and I have a bet going – was he born on the eleventh or the twelfth?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "The twelfth. Twelve-oh-seven." George held out his hand, grinning widely.

"Move aside, eldest brother coming through," Bill announced as he entered the room with Fleur in tow. He stared down at James, who was now sleeping in his mother's arms. "He's beautiful, Gin." Fleur nodded her agreement eagerly and said something in French Neville didn't understand. Ginny, however, looked pleased.

Ron came into the room then holding a piece of parchment. "Your gran sent this, Neville – she said she'll stop by tomorrow."

"Thanks, Ron," Neville said, relieved. He was too tired to deal with her at the moment. Ron nodded and stood next to Bill, both looking at the baby in admiration.

Ginny yawned hugely, which Molly took as her cue to shoo everyone out of the room. Soon, it was just Ginny, Neville and James left.

"Well, I fed him," Ginny said thoughtfully. Neville's face flushed at the memory of _that_. "Maybe we could try putting him in the bassinet for awhile."

Nodding, Neville placed James gently in the bassinet, where he immediately began to wail loudly.

"Okay, maybe not," Ginny said, sighing.

"No, wait," Neville said as he stared into the bassinet. James's wails slowly stopped and his breathing became regular. "See? He's asleep…must know Mummy is tired."

Ginny laughed, then winced at the strain. "Neville, you are too sweet for words."

* * *

Neville was awakened a few hours later by a crying baby. It took him a moment to remember that this was Ginny's baby – his baby. This would take some getting used to.

By the time Neville was fully awake, Ginny was already sitting up in the bed next to him nursing James. "Good morning," she said pleasantly. "Go shower, we'll have lots of visitors today."

When Neville returned from the shower, Ginny had already managed to dress James in a soft blue sleeper. "Here you go," she said, dumping the baby in his arms. "I'm going to take a nice long bath."

Neville was surprised to see Ginny up and about. Granted, her walk was stiff and pained, but he would have expected her to stay in bed a bit longer. He stared down at James uneasily, feeling suddenly vulnerable and alone.

"Hello, Neville," Molly said sweetly as she entered the room with a breakfast tray. "Is something wrong? You're just…standing there."

"Ginny gave him to me when she went to the bath, and I didn't want to move and hurt him or something…he's so small…and I don't know what to do," Neville mumbled.

To his horror, Molly laughed. "Oh, you're just like Arthur was with Bill. You're doing fine, dear, he won't break."

Neville sat down carefully in Ginny's desk chair. Molly set down a plate of eggs and toast and a glass of pumpkin juice before taking James. "Eat," she ordered. Feeling suddenly starved, Neville obeyed immediately.

Ginny stayed in the bath a long time, but she eventually settled back in the bed to eat her own breakfast. He mother fussed over her incessantly, which Ginny hated, of course. James had fallen asleep again, and Molly had returned him to his bassinet. Molly alternated between fluffing Ginny's pillows and looking in on her grandson, and Neville was forced to choke down a laugh – she was every inch the overbearing mother hen.

Around mid-morning there was a loud crash downstairs. Molly flew out of the room, much to Ginny's relief. James, however, hadn't appreciated the noise and was now bawling. Neville picked him up warily and hurriedly handed him to Ginny.

"I'm so sorry! I crashed into a chair downstairs," Tonks explained apologetically. Her hair was a conservative auburn, and Neville remembered after a moment that she was a Metamorphmagus. She smiled at him before turning to Ginny.

"Oh, he's adorable! Look at that red hair!" she squealed. James did, indeed, have a soft patch of orange fuzz on his head.

"Nymphadora will look and not touch," Lupin remarked with a laugh as he entered the room. He and Tonks were regular dinner guests at the Burrow, and Neville was glad Molly had invited them over. "What did you name him?" he asked.

"James Albus Longbottom," Ginny said proudly. Lupin's lip quivered for just a moment as he gazed down at the baby. "You can hold him, if you like."

"Oh, I see how it is," Tonks inserted with a grin. Lupin held James tenderly, the expression on his face one of awe and pride.

"I have the birth certificate; Madam Greenfield left it downstairs," Molly said as she entered the room again. "I filled out most of it, but it needs both your signatures."

Ginny only looked at the sturdy square of parchment briefly before signing it. Neville studied it a bit more closely, still a little shocked to see his own name in the box marked "Father." He knew this was how it had to be…but it seemed wrong. His hand shook slightly as he signed.

"Now that that's done," Ginny said, handing the card and quill back to her mother, "Neville and I have something to ask the two of you. We want you to serve as James's godparents."

Lupin looked down at the baby in his arms, then at Tonks, who had tears in her eyes. "Why us?" he whispered.

Neville caught Ginny's eye, and she nodded, unable to speak for her emotion. "You've both been so supportive of us, and it's what Harry would have wanted," Neville said quietly. "And Tonks is an Auror…like my parents." He spoke the last words almost to himself, but judging by the gobsmacked look on Tonks's face she had heard them.

Lupin finally smiled and glanced up at Ginny. "I would be honored."

"Me, too," Tonks replied.

"You know," Lupin said as he returned James to Ginny's arms, "I think his eyes are going to be green."

"I think so, too," Molly said, sighing slightly. Neville shifted uncomfortably. He knew they all wanted him to come clean with his gran, but he was still terrified of her reaction.

"Hello? Where is everyone?" a gruff voice called from downstairs, breaking the tension.

"Gran," Neville mumbled. "She'll have Flooed; she hates to Apparate." He bolted down the stairs.

His gran wore her trademark vulture hat paired with a fur cape and dark red winter cloak that sort of matched her handbag. "Hello, Neville. So do I get to see this baby?"

With a deep breath, Neville took the plunge. "Gran, there's something you should know."

"You're not the baby's biological father. I know."

Neville stared at her, his mouth slightly open.

"Close your mouth, Neville, you look a fool," his gran admonished. "I suspected it all along – nothing really fit together. Then, over Christmas, I noticed Ginevra's reaction when I told your parents about You-Know-Who's defeat. The child is Harry Potter's, unless I am much mistaken."

"N-no, you've got it right. I'm sorry I didn't tell you; I was afraid – "

"Afraid I wouldn't approve? Neville, now that I understand the truth of the situation – it is a noble thing you have done, with the extent you've gone to in order to protect Ginevra and the child. I am proud of you," his gran said, pulling him into an uncharacteristic hug. "And I'm sorry for my insults before."

"You can't tell anyone. Legally, and everything…I mean…I'm his father. I signed his birth certificate."

His gran simply nodded. "So, can I meet my great-grandson now?"

* * *

A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! Reviews make my day! 


	12. Married With Children

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter is not mine.

**Warning: **I apologize in advance for the fluff in this chapter, haha.

* * *

Chapter Twelve: Married With Children

"I think that's everything," Arthur said, setting Ginny's trunk on the floor of the lounge. He looked around the room, which had been redone in deep reds and whites with oak trim. "You and the boys really did a great job with the house, Neville."

"Thanks. We couldn't have done it without your help," Neville said, scratching his chin. He glanced down at the plush burgundy rug that covered the freshly refinished hardwood floor. "I'm kind of worried about us being alone, though…I wish I didn't have to go back to work in two days."

"I know the feeling," Arthur said as he glanced around the room. "Where are Molly, Ginny, and James?"

"The nursery, I think. Molly wanted to see it, even though James won't sleep in there for awhile yet." Neville started up the stairs, Arthur right behind him.

Ron had originally wanted to paint the nursery in Gryffindor colors, and Ginny had agreed until Hermione turned up with a bunch of research stating that red was not a brain compatible color and thus not appropriate for a small child's room. As such, the color scheme had been changed to light blue. Ron had even managed to charm some clouds onto the ceiling. The bedding and curtains were blue with a Golden Snitch print, and Neville had draped Harry's baby blanket over the back of the crib.

"Oh, it's absolutely gorgeous, Neville!" Molly gushed as he entered the room. Ginny, who was sitting with James in a rocking chair, nodded enthusiastically.

"I can't believe _Ron_ did this. Maybe there's some hope for him, after all," she said, impressed. "There's not even one Chudley Cannons poster."

Wordlessly, Neville opened the wardrobe door. There was a flash of orange as seven smiling faces waved their hands furiously. Ginny groaned.

"I knew it was too good to be true," she said, shaking her head.

"Well, if you're all right, Ginny, your mother and I will head home," Arthur said. Ginny nodded.

"We're only a Floo call away," Molly said tearfully. "If you need anything, please let us know." She and Arthur headed outside to the Apparation point, leaving the young family alone in their new house.

"So," Neville said after several moments of silence. "Your mum left dinner – didn't trust us to cook, I guess."

"Brilliant," Ginny said, shifting two-week-old James so he rested against her shoulder. "I could eat a hippogriff." She hurried down to the kitchen as quickly as possible, but Neville followed a bit more slowly.

It looked to Neville as though Molly had left enough food to feed half of Hogwarts. There was a wide assortment of sandwiches, meat pies, vegetable pies, breads, and puddings. Ginny had laid James in his carrier and was piling food onto her plate.

Grinning at the scene, Neville helped himself to some sandwiches. About halfway through the meal, James began to whimper. Ginny immediately dropped her fork and scooped him up.

"What's wrong, Jamie? You can't be hungry; I fed you a half hour ago. Do you need to be changed?" Ginny felt his diaper. "No, you're dry…what else could be wrong?"

She looked at Neville helplessly. He shrugged; he had no idea what to do. He just figured babies cried a lot for no particular reason.

Ginny slumped back into her chair, James still bawling in her arms. "I can't do this. I'm a horrible mother. My mum is just so good with him…and I'm a failure."

"You are not a failure. You're new at this, and your mum has seven kids," Neville insisted. "Here, let me take him, and you finish your dinner."

Raising an eyebrow doubtfully, Ginny passed James to Neville. The baby immediately quieted and looked up at Neville innocently with Harry's bright green eyes.

"Oh, I see how it is," Ginny said shortly, but she was smiling. "I was in labor with you for fifteen hours, I feed you, I change most of your nappies, and Daddy's your favorite. Traitor."

Chucklin, Neville looked across the table at Ginny. "You called me Daddy," he said softly.

Ginny shrugged. "That's what you are, right?"

"Yeah," Neville said as he stroked James's cheek. "I am."

* * *

Ginny was reveling in the freedom that came with living in her own house. Neville came home after his second day back at work to find her humming merrily in the kitchen as two different pots simmered on the stove. James was snuggled against her chest in the Muggle baby carrier contraption Hermione had given them.

"Someone's in a good mood," Neville said, hanging up his cloak.

Ginny turned to face him, wooden spoon in hand. "Oh, the baby was such an angel today, so I decided to do some experimenting in the kitchen and call it Potions homework. Here, try this."

She dipped the spoon in one of the pots and held it out for Neville. He took it somewhat warily – Ginny normally didn't have much patience for cooking and her skills were somewhat unrefined. The spoon appeared to contain some sort of white sauce, although it looked like there were little bits of something in it. Taking a bite, Neville was surprised to find that it was edible, if a bit tasteless.

"Potato soup?" he said, hoping against hope he had guessed correctly.

Ginny smiled and nodded, taking the spoon from him and tasting a bit herself. "Hmm…still needs more…something. When Mum makes it there's so much flavor, but this is just boring." She turned back to the stove, and at that moment James started to cry. Ginny set down the spoon and pulled him out of the carrier.

"He's wet," she quickly concluded.

"I'll take him, you finish dinner," Neville said. He was starved and hoped Ginny's culinary creations wouldn't take much longer.

James was gurgling at him, which Neville took to mean it was taking too long to get his nappy changed. It had taken Neville awhile to adjust to caring for a baby – Molly had helped him a lot the first two weeks when they were still at the Burrow. He had been scared, at first, knowing that he was partly responsible for this little human being. Slowly, though, he was getting used to things like changing diapers and drawing baths. His skills at _Scourgify_ had even improved out of necessity.

Neville redid the snaps on James's onesie and buttoned up his one-piece sleeper, which was olive green and decorated with a broomstick. It had been a gift from Tonks – between her, Molly, his gran, Auntie Enid, Hermione, and Fleur, they hadn't needed to buy James hardly any clothes themselves. It was ridiculous, really, how crazy women went over babies. He did have to admit, though, that James had almost immediately enchanted him, as well.

"Okay, Jamie," Neville said, lifting James into his arms. "Let's go see what mess your mum's made of dinner."

* * *

A few days later, Neville was eating his breakfast of bran flakes when he spotted four owls heading towards the window. One he recognized as Hedwig, and the large brown owl belonged to his gran, and the third was the Weasleys' ancient Errol, but the fourth was unfamiliar.

Hedwig was carrying a package, but the other three owls just had letters. While he was fetching some water for them, Neville realized it would probably be a good idea for Ginny and him to get an owl of their own.

The package contained a letter for Ginny and yet another toy for James – this time a wooden rattle. Hagrid had been sending toys once every three or four days despite Ginny's attempts to tell him this was unnecessary. James was spoiled enough.

He scanned the contents of his gran's letter. She had updated him on some family gossip he didn't care about, as well as invited them to dinner that Thursday evening. Neville found himself looking forward to that – he hadn't seen his gran since James was born and he was bound to get a full, decent meal out of the evening.

The next letter was from Molly, asking when they were going to come visit. She was apparently trying to get all her children together for dinner on Sunday, maybe start a regular tradition. He wished her luck with that Percy fellow – according to Ron and Ginny he hadn't spoken to the family in over two years. Still, Neville didn't mind Bill and Fleur, and he was wiser to the twins' tricks now. Mouth watering at the thought of Molly's cooking, Neville turned to the last owl, a small dark one.

The fourth letter proved to be from Remus and Tonks, who were offering to babysit that weekend as Tonks had a couple days off work. Remus also had some information for Ginny about helping her study for N.E.W.T.s – he was tutoring several students now in hopes of eventually getting his job back at Hogwarts. The last part of the letter contained a dinner invitation, and Neville laughed.

"What's so funny?" Ginny said as she entered the kitchen, James resting against her shoulder.

"We have dinner invitations from my gran, your mum, and Remus and Tonks," Neville said. "There's also a letter for you from Hagrid."

"Have you been telling people I can't cook?" Ginny said, glowering.

"N-no, of course not!" He had joked about Ginny's cooking experiments a bit with Ron, who said Hermione was lousy in the kitchen, too, but he had definitely not told anyone else.

"Because I'd like to see _you_ cook something," Ginny continued.

"I fully admit I'm rubbish at most household-related spells," Neville said, grinning.

"I don't have time for it like my mum does." Ginny set James in his baby carrier, which had been secured in one of the chairs. He was fussing a bit, and it took some effort on her part to strap him in. Once he was secure, he spit up a good quantity of milk on Ginny's blouse. Sighing, she aimed her wand at her shoulder. "_Sourgify_," she said in a bored tone. She then looked back up at Neville. "Exhibit A. For Exhibit B, feel free to peruse my giant pile of textbooks."

"I've never complained, Ginny, I know you have more important things to do. Besides, it's not like your cooking is inedible; no one here is going hungry. The dinner invites are just a coincidence, I think. We haven't seen Gran in awhile and Tonks apparently has a few days off work, and your mum is trying to start a weekly dinner tradition," Neville said.

Ginny finally smiled. "Fine, I believe you. Besides, my cooking is nowhere near as bad as Hermione's."

* * *

"You look dead on your feet, Longbottom," Marks said one Sunday afternoon in February. They had received a special shipment of a particularly rare species of ginger root that needed to be handled immediately, so several of the Research Assistants had been called in on the weekend.

"Sorry sir," Neville said with a yawn. "That baby was up most of the night. He has colic, we think."

Marks laughed heartily and shook his head, as though remembering days long past. "Hope you got your wife something special for Valentine's Day – sounds like she deserves it."

Neville kicked himself mentally. He'd wondered why his Forget-Me-Knot had been red for the past two days. Ginny wouldn't have remembered, would she?

He was sure she would have, as her memory was nowhere near as poor as his. Ginny was frustrated, he knew, between James and trying to keep up with her schoolwork. It was hard on her – most of her friends were still at Hogwarts and she was by herself all day with a baby.

Later that afternoon, he returned home to see James crying away in his playpen with Ginny nowhere in sight. Confused, he walked into the kitchen to find Ginny sitting with her head down on the table. She must have cast an Imperturbable Charm on the lounge, for James's screams could no longer be heard.

"Hard day?" he asked, only to be greeted with a death glare. He lifted the red roses he had purchased in a Muggle flower shop down the street into view. "Happy Valentine's Day, Ginny."

Her eyes lit up and she jumped from her chair, throwing her arms around Neville's neck. "You remembered!" she exclaimed, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

"Uh, yeah," he said sheepishly. "Now take the night off. I can handle this." Ginny pulled back a little and looked at him, doubt in her eyes. "I can. You deserve a break – go hang out with Hermione or something."

"Really?" She seemed reluctant, despite the fact that she had obviously had enough with James. Finally, she smiled. "All right. I could use a break, and I'm sure Ron has forgotten all about Valentine's Day so Hermione will need a sounding board. Are you sure you'll be all right?"

"Yes," Neville insisted.

"I love you, Neville," she said suddenly.

They both froze at this implication. Neville's cheeks tinged red as he cleared his throat. "Go on, get out of here," he managed finally, laughing slightly.

Looking relieved, Ginny grabbed her cloak and wand and Disapparated.

Sighing, Neville lifted the Imperturbable Charm and went to tend to James. He had a feeling he knew what Hermione and Ginny would discuss tonight.

"Hi, Jamie. What's the matter? Did Mummy leave you here all by yourself?" Neville asked in a slight baby voice as he lifted James from the playpen. James's face was red and tear streaked, but he seemed to have stopped crying.

"That's much better." He picked up a bright pink plush pig, which was currently James's favorite toy. Ginny had christened it "Owl" as a sort of joke – she thought the thing was adorable. Neville thought the toy was a bit ridiculous for a boy, although the expression on Ron's face when he had seen his nephew chewing on a plush pink pig _had_ been amusing.

Suddenly, James screwed up his face in concentration, and an absolutely awful smell wafted up to Neville's nose. He grimaced and held James at arm's length as he carried him upstairs to be changed.

"It's going to be a long night," he said, shaking his head. James giggled.

* * *

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my own abysmal cooking skills. I hope you enjoyed this one, and thanks for reading! 


	13. Where Did it All Go Wrong?

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

For reference, this chapter takes place in March of 1999. This is based on JKR's timeline, which places Harry's birth in 1980, which puts the end of seventh year and the start of this story in June of 1998.

* * *

Chapter Thirteen: Where Did it All Go Wrong? 

Over the next few weeks, Neville and Ginny focused their attention solely on James. This served a two-fold purpose – the baby was generally happy and Neville and Ginny never had to discuss their up-and-down relationship. James started sleeping through the night, and when he was ten weeks old Ginny decided to move him to the nursery.

Since James had been born, his bassinet had been in their room, first at the Burrow and now here. Ginny and Neville had no time to themselves, really, which meant the barrier which Ginny had created with her stuffed cat was still there. If anything, it had grown even more pronounced with a baby in the room.

Neville wasn't quite sure what to expect now that James was going to be in his own room. Ginny no longer cried over pictures of Harry when she thought he wasn't looking, but she was so focused on the baby Neville wasn't sure she was really healed. He had tried and failed to talk to her about it, and he only hoped that Hermione was getting through to her during their many conversations.

Ginny made a big show of introducing James to his crib. "You're going to have to be a big boy, you know, all the way across the hall in this big room, all by yourself. But I know you can handle it," she said loudly. Neville got the impression she was trying to convince herself more so than the baby.

After putting James to bed, they returned to the lounge, sitting at opposite ends of the room. Ginny was reading from her Charms text, and Neville was finishing some reports for work. He must have dozed off at some point, because the next thing he knew Ginny was gone. Glancing at his watch, he noticed that it was getting late and headed upstairs.

Ginny wasn't in the bedroom or the bath, and despite the fact that James hadn't cried once Neville figured that's where Ginny was. Upon investigation, he found her right where he had expected, watching James sleep. He snaked his arms around Ginny's waist, and she sighed.

"I feel so bad, leaving him here all alone," she whispered.

"He's right across the hall, Ginny. It's not like he could stay with us forever," Neville said. "Besides, he looks peaceful." Feeling bolder than usual, Neville kissed Ginny gently just below her ear. She stiffened, then extricated herself from his embrace and left the room.

Neville waited a few minutes before returning to his and Ginny's room. Ginny was already asleep, or at least pretending to sleep, and Kitty had been returned to the middle of the bed. Frustrated, he decided to take a shower before trying to sleep.

* * *

Ginny made waffles the next morning, since it was a Saturday and Neville didn't have to work. She didn't meet Neville's eyes as she passed the butter, but he didn't say anything – much as he wanted to. 

The meal was interrupted by a flash of green flame as Arthur's head appeared in the fire. "Dad!" Ginny exclaimed. "What's wrong?"

Arthur's face looked grave. "Death Eaters attacked Hermione last night. She's okay," he continued immediately. "She had an alarm ward at her flat they didn't manage to disable, so the Aurors were alerted right away. She's at St. Mungo's with minor spell damage and a concussion. Molly asked me to contact you in case you wanted to see her."

"Yes, of course," Ginny said, her face drained of color. She looked at James, then Neville.

"You go ahead," Neville replied. "I"ll bundle up James and we'll meet you there." Ginny left quickly, almost forgetting her cloak and leaving her breakfast mostly uneaten.

Neville Flooed into St. Mungo's nearly a half hour later; James had resisted wearing his winter coat and hat. Ginny was waiting for them in the lobby of the Spell Damage ward, Molly and Arthur standing nearby. She immediately reached for James, then frowned.

"He, uh, needs to be changed. The Floo didn't agree with him," Neville said. He thought he caught the shadow of a smile on Arthur's face at this announcement, but he couldn't be sure.

"I'll take him. They won't let us in to see her yet, anyway," Ginny replied. She took James and the baby bag and started looking around for the nearest loo.

"We were just heading up to the tearoom – did you two want anything?" Molly asked.

"No, thanks," Neville said, and Ginny shook her head. Molly and Arthur left then, and Ginny quickly headed in the direction of the loo, leaving Neville by himself in the corridor. A middle-aged woman in green Healer robes approached him.

"You look familiar," she said, looking at him carefully.

"Well, I work downstairs in Herbal Research," Neville said. "My name is Neville –"

"That's Ginny Weasley, isn't it? The girl you were talking to?" the woman broke in, a curious look on her face.

"Um, yes. Ginny Longbottom, now," Neville said automatically.

"So you're Mr. Longbottom, I take it? My daughter Katarina was in Ginny's year at Hogwarts, and she has been wondering why Ginny didn't come back this year. The rumors one hears…that was her baby, wasn't it? That explains it, I suppose," the woman said, her nose upturned as though she had just smelled something particularly foul.

Neville recalled the name Katarina as belonging to one of the Ravenclaw girls who liked to pester Luna. He tried to block out the nosy woman's rude words but found his efforts unsuccessful.

"I knew your parents at Hogwarts, of course, Frank and Alice. I can't imagine how ashamed they would be to know what you did to that girl. If such a thing had happened to Katarina, I would have killed the boy myself," the woman continued, seemingly uncaring that her opinions were neither appropriate nor welcome. "I suppose it's a good thing your parents will never know what a mess you've made of your life."

"I have a good job, you know," Neville said, feeling defensive. "Ginny and I are doing just fine, and anyway, this really isn't any of your business."

"I'm only trying to clear up some rumors. Katarina has told me some of the terrible things they're spreading around the school, and I hope to inform her of the truth so she can enlighten her friends. Surely you don't want your former classmates to think you forced the Weasley girl into anything," the woman said, speaking as though she really did think she was doing him a great service.

Neville swallowed hard, too stunned to do anything besides stand there stupidly. He had thought they had heard the last of this type of talk. It was ridiculous – the woman had treated him as some sort of predator. The irony was too cruel, really. She walked away haughtily, leaving Neville standing there with a hard look on his face.

Ginny soon returned with a much happier looking James and eyed him quizzically. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Let's go see if they'll let us into Hermione's room yet," Neville said coldly.

The Healer on duty, who was thankfully not Katarina of Ravenclaw's mother, gave them the OK to enter, though she did frown a little when she saw James. Hermione was smiling as they entered the room, though, and Ron was seated right next to her. He appeared to be stroking her hand. Neville would have smiled if he hadn't been in such a foul mood; if nothing else, it looked as though this had sparked Ron into action regarding his future with Hermione.

"How are you feeling?" Ginny asked.

"I'll be better if you let me hold my nephew," Hermione answered, beaming. Ron's ears turned rather pink.

"I feel fine though, really. The Aurors got there before Bellatrix could do much damage," Hermione continued.

"Bellatrix Lestrange was there?" Neville said, his jaw tightening.

"Yeah, we think she was their leader. It was a fairly large operation – eight Death Eaters in total, including the ones scoping the perimeter. Mad-Eye thinks they were desperate for some sort of revenge, as the whole thing was rather poorly planned and obviously targeted at someone close to Harry. I talked to Kingsley earlier; they brought everyone in. It seems to be the last of the really dangerous Death Eaters," Ron said, his eyes dark. "They'll sit trial, of course, even those who previously escaped from Azkaban, but there's no doubt about what sentence the Lestranges will receive, at least."

"I wish that wasn't necessary," Hermione said softly as she played with one of James's coat buttons.

"She deserves it," Neville said through clenched teeth. He could feel everyone looking at him, but he didn't care. "You'd feel the same way if you were me."

No one spoke for several minutes, until James broke the silence by whimpering softly.

"Okay, back to Mummy," Hermione said. Ginny took James from Hermione's arms, and the conversation shifted to focus on the baby.

Molly and Arthur returned from the tearoom with a tray of teacups and scones. Ron helped himself to a scone, and the others all took cups of tea, but Neville sat there, his appetite completely gone.

Ginny had taken off James's coat, since it looked like they would be visiting for awhile. Today he was wearing a tiny shirt with a picture of a dragon on it and green trousers. Molly cooed over him for awhile, clearly smitten with her small grandson.

"Is he sleeping through the night yet?" she asked, looking up at Ginny.

"For the most part," Ginny answered. "We moved him to the nursery, at least."

"I just can't believe how big he's getting," Molly said. "Sometimes it seems like just yesterday that you were a baby, Ginny."

Ginny rolled her eyes, and Ron quickly stifled a laugh. Shaking her head, Hermione turned to Neville. "How has work been?" she asked.

"Fine," he replied, his arms crossed over his chest.

"It sounds pretty exciting to me," Hermione continued. "I always liked Herbology."

Neville just shrugged. Ginny shot him a questioning look, but he shook his head. He didn't feel much like chatting. The conversation turned to Ron's Auror training, and Neville kept quiet. His thoughts were full of that Healer's comments and Bellatrix Lestrange.

The Healer on duty in Hermione's ward came to kick them out around three o'clock, claiming they were disturbing other patients. They all said their goodbyes to Hermione, who was going to be released in the morning anyway, and Ron, who was apparently staying with her.

Neville and Ginny returned home, and Ginny fed James before putting him down for a nap. Neville sat moodily at the kitchen table, nursing a mug of hot cocoa.

"Okay," Ginny said, taking the seat across from him. "What's up with you? You've been in an unusually bad mood today."

"Do you know the Ravenclaw in your year named Katarina?" Ginny nodded. "I met her mother today. Charming woman – asked me if I was proud of myself for ruining your life," Neville said bitterly.

"Well, it was awful I'm sure, but you've heard it before. We both ha – "

"She told me my parents would be disappointed with what I've done with my life, how terrible I've made things for you," Neville continued, feeling himself growing more angry than he could ever remember being.

Ginny's face fell. "You know that's not true; they'd be proud of you, I know it. And anyway, who is she to tell you what your parents would think? Just ignore it."

"She practically accused me of being a rapist," Neville said, his voice rising. Whether due to the stress of the day or just his general frustration, Neville knew he had to get this off his chest. "I married you willingly – it was my idea, even. But ever since then, I've taken most of the blame for ruining you, and…and I'm still a bloody virgin!"

Ginny's mouth dropped open, but Neville wasn't finished. "A-and it really frustrates me that people wouldn't say such awful things about Harry if they knew the truth."

He paused, red-faced and breathing heavily. Ginny's face was just as red, and Neville could tell she was livid and hurt all at the same time.

"That's a really terrible thing to say," she said, her voice low and intense.

"It's the truth and you know it," Neville retorted. "But you know what? It wouldn't bother me so much if I thought you really wanted to be with me. I thought now that James was in his own room, well…"

Neville suddenly felt incredibly stupid, wishing he hadn't brought this up.

Ginny looked shocked and shook her head. "Neville, I – "

"Just forget it. And anyway, you heard what Ron said. They've got the really dangerous Death Eaters now, you don't need me to protect you anymore. If you don't want to be married to me, well...I guess I understand."

"Neville, I chose to marry you! I have no intention of leaving," Ginny said desperately.

Neville shoved his hands in his pockets. "You have a funny way of showing it."

"I'm trying! I want this to work, Neville, I really do. You're so good with the baby, and I just…I just need…"

"Time," Neville answered dully. "I get it. Let's just drop it."

"Can we talk about this?" Ginny pleaded. "I can explain – "

"You don't have to explain. I've given you time, I've been patient, and it hasn't been enough. But I understand, really..who wants me when they've had so much better?" Neville said, a tinge of uncharacteristic sarcasm creeping into his voice. As soon as he said it, he knew it had been a mistake. For months he had told himself he wouldn't push her, and now here he was, doing just that.

If possible, Ginny had grown even angrier at his last words, her wand raised. At this point, Neville didn't even care if she hexed him – he deserved it.

What she said surprised him even more. "What are you trying to say, Neville? You really want me to leave? Fine."

Before Neville could stop her, she had stomped upstairs to fetch James and Flooed away. He rubbed his temples, furious with himself. After kicking one of the kitchen table legs and stubbing his toe rather badly, he slouched into the tiny conservatory and collapsed on a bench, fully believing that he had just destroyed his marriage beyond repair. He stared at his now fully-grown _Mimbulus mimbletonia_, realizing with a twinge of regret that it was the only thing at which he hadn't completely failed.

* * *

A/N: I'm still not completely happy with this chapter, but I hope you all enjoyed it nonetheless. Feedback is appreciated! 


	14. Don't Look Back in Anger

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and all related books, movies, merchandise, etc. are the property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros. and so on.

* * *

Chapter Fourteen: Don't Look Back in Anger

Ginny Flooed to the first place she could think of – her brother Bill's flat. She definitely did not need her mother's company at the moment, and Hermione was still at St. Mungo's. Besides that, Bill had always been the brother she went to for advice, ever since she was little...she just hadn't done so in quite some time.

She looked around the cramped flat and adjusted James on her shoulder. A thin woman with silvery hair had perked up at Ginny's arrival, and she rose from her chair immediately, a look of concern on her face.

"Ginny! What are you doing 'ere?"

_Damn_, Ginny thought. She had momentarily forgotten that Fleur lived here, too.

"I need to talk to Bill," she mumbled, her eyes puffy and red.

"What's up, Gin-Gin?" Bill asked as he entered the main room of the flat.

"N-neville and I…he…we sort of had a fight, and I left," Ginny said finally. "I didn't want to talk to Mum, so I came here."

Bill looked at Fleur, who moved forward to take James. "I'll watch 'im for you. Good practice," she said, winking.

Ginny followed Bill into the tiny kitchen, where he poured her a large mug of tea. She supposed Fleur must have taken the baby to the bedroom to give them some privacy. Still, Bill shoved the door closed before sitting down at the table. "So, what happened?" he asked.

Ginny explained the various insults she and Neville had received over the past few months, noting that they had always written it off as people not understanding or sticking their noses where they didn't belong. She then explained what had happened at St. Mungo's, everything from the rude woman to what Ron had said about Bellatrix Lestrange. Finally, feeling her voice growing angry at the thought, she recounted the important bits of the fight.

Throughout all of this, Bill sat silently, letting her talk. She was surprised to find that it felt good to talk about all the gossip they had endured without frequent interruptions from Hermione.

"So, I finally just left…he wasn't listening to me and I couldn't take it anymore," Ginny finished.

Bill sat in silence for a few moments, as though trying to decide where to begin. "Well, first off, I think you're right…people just need to mind their own business. But you have to think about this from Neville's perspective. He's taking a lot of heat for something he didn't do," Bill said.

Ginny curled her fists. In her opinion, Neville had thrown in his lot with hers from the beginning…she had always told him they were in this together. "He chose to marry me…he had to know what that would entail. That doesn't give him the right to throw Harry in my face, tell me that people wouldn't say such terrible things about Harry if they knew the truth..."

Bill looked at her thoughtfully. "Gin, I hate to say this, but Neville's probably right. If Harry had lived, you would be the scarlet woman who got pregnant on purpose so the 'Chosen One' would be forced to marry you. As it is, Neville has taken the bulk of the blame."

Ginny looked defiant. "But that's not my fault!"

"I know it isn't," Bill said immediately. "But then that woman today said those things about his parents…it just pushed him over the edge. He's dealt with a lot, and neither of you are getting much sleep because of James…he was bound to burst eventually."

"But still…I can't believe he thinks I don't want to be married to him," Ginny said, feeling suddenly defeated.

"Have you given him any indication that you married him for himself, and not just because circumstances encouraged you to do it?" Bill asked carefully.

She got up from her chair and began pacing the room. "I've been trying, really I have! It's like he doesn't understand…he thinks I don't care about him…just because we've never – " Ginny broke off, feeling slightly abashed as her face turned pink. "Well…you know."

Bill looked thunderstruck. "Wait a tic. You mean to tell me that you and Neville have never…he's been married to you since August…and now it's almost April…and he's still a virgin?"

Ginny sort of grunted noncommittally. She definitely didn't want to talk about Neville's lack of sexual experience or any part she might have played in maintaining the status quo.

Bill swore under his breath. "I knew he was a good guy, but Ginny…that man is a saint."

"What are you talking about?" Ginny said defensively. Somehow, Bill wasn't as comforting as she had expected. Wasn't her brother supposed to take her side?

"He's never pushed you? Never hinted before that he wanted a real marriage?" Bill asked, sounding curious but looking somewhat appalled at discussing such subjects with his sister.

"He sort of alluded to it back in October…but he never really tried anything until last night…and even then he just kissed my, um, neck…and when I pulled away he didn't try again," Ginny said, feeling suddenly very small and childish. It occurred to her that she had gone farther physically with Dean than she had with Neville, a realization which made her feel almost disgusted with herself.

Bill was wearing a saddened expression, one that could almost be called disappointment. "Oh Ginny…don't you get it?"

Ginny's face formed into a frown. "Get what?"

Bill sighed. "He loves you. He loves you so much he would have watched you marry Harry because he thought that was what you wanted, what would make you happy. He loves you so much he's waited for you to initiate any sort of deeper relationship, and as a male I can tell you how difficult that must be for him."

Ginny made a face; she couldn't believe she was having this conversation with her brother. "He's never told me he loves me, really."

"He hasn't said anything because he believes you need time…he's been trusting that you would get there eventually," Bill said seriously.

"How can you know all that?" Ginny retorted, though a small voice in her head (it sounded like Hermione) was saying the same thing.

"I've watched him; it's obvious." Bill reached over to cover Ginny's hand with his own. "You know what those Death Eaters tried to do to Hermione simply because she was friends with Harry. If they had any indication that your son is Harry's son…even if they had any idea how close you two were…they wouldn't have hesitated to go after you instead. Neville has very possibly saved your life – yours and James's."

Ginny was silent then. She knew Bill was right; concern for her own safety and the safety of her child had been, if she was being honest, one of the main reasons she decided to get married. The Death Eaters would have loved to kill Harry Potter's son – that would have been much better revenge than attacking his muggle-born friend.

"I know he's protected us, Bill, I'm not stupid," she said quietly.

"Well, in that case, it seems to me – and I can't believe I'm telling my baby sister this – that the least you could do is sleep with him," Bill said bluntly.

Ginny suddenly broke into a coughing fit. "But I…I just…I can't, I don't…Harry," she sputtered.

"Harry is dead, Ginevra, and he is going to stay dead," Bill said, his voice gentle but firm. "I know this has been difficult for you – I don't think any of us could imagine what you've gone through. All things considered, maybe you really haven't had the time you need to mourn."

"I don't think it's that, exactly…" Ginny said. "I just…can't betray his memory."

"But don't you think your memory is a little rose-colored?" Bill looked at Ginny gravely, as though imploring her to really think about it. "I mean, you and Harry had been broken up for almost a year when James was conceived…from what Mum's said it's like the two of you ran into each other purely by chance. He was a wonderful person, don't get me wrong, but it seems like you're putting him on this pedestal and refusing to give Neville a real chance to show you that he cares about you just as much."

"Harry loved me," Ginny said, her fists clenched. She closed her eyes as she remembered that terrible day of Dumbledore's funeral. "He was just being noble when he broke up with me…he didn't want me to get hurt…"

"But you did get hurt, didn't you?" Bill inserted. He held up his hand to stop her protest. "No, not in the way he thought you would, but not all scars are visible to the naked eye. Take it from someone who knows."

Ginny broke down then, tears flowing freely down her face. She hiccupped and held her face in her hands, feeling the emotion she had hidden for so long burst forward. She needed to cry, she needed to finally come to terms with her feelings.

Bill scooted his chair over and wrapped his arms around her, rocking her gently back and forth. Clutching onto his shirt, she cried until she had no tears left, letting Bill be the older brother she needed but had shoved to the side in her desire for independence. He whispered nonsense and rubbed her back, much as she had done for Neville on Christmas.

"I just feel like I'm never going to love Neville as much as he loves me…because Harry will always be there," she mumbled finally.

"No one is asking you to forget Harry," Bill said. "Least of all Neville. There's enough room in your life for both of them."

Ginny wiped a hand across her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Let me put it this way," Bill said plainly. "If I had died when Greyback attacked me two years ago, I wouldn't have expected Fleur to live the rest of her life as a bitter old maid, and I wouldn't have wanted her to. I would want her to be happy…and I think Neville makes you happy."

Ginny stared at her eldest brother, knowing he was right. Neville did make her happy – he was a great friend, and he was so good with the baby – she just needed to give him the chance to be something more. This was what Hermione had been trying to tell her all along – she had just been stubborn and refused to listen.

Yes, a part of her might always love Harry, but that didn't mean she couldn't love Neville, too. She felt herself tearing up a bit again when she thought about everything Neville had done for her – she had been so ungrateful. Her actions had been childish, selfish…she knew she had to fix this, and quickly.

"Can you and Fleur watch James tonight?" she asked. She was somewhat wary of leaving her son in the hands of her sister-in-law, but she figured Bill would be able to make up for Fleur's possible inadequacies.

Bill's smile lit up his face to the point where one almost didn't notice his scars. "Of course. Like Fleur said, we need the practice. And we haven't told Mum yet, so you should feel special."

Laughing, Ginny hugged her brother tightly. "Congratulations! And thanks, Bill…for everything."

* * *

Neville had spent the past two hours wandering around the house, lost in thought. He was devastated by his fight with Ginny and angry at himself for saying such mean things to her. It was the first time he had ever truly spoken to someone he cared about in a forceful manner. This had been different than that little tiff in Diagon Alley – there he had upset her mostly by accident. Tonight, however, he had wanted to hurt her, to make her feel as awful as he already did, and he hated himself for it. He just hoped Ginny would give him a chance to apologize.

He thought he heard the sound of an Apparation outside, which surprised him. He next heard the opening and closing of the front door…but the Intruder Charm hadn't gone off, so…

"Neville? Where are you?" Ginny's voice floated in from the lounge. Feeling relieved, he went out to meet her.

"I'm so sorry!" he cried immediately, a look of regret on his face. "I had no right to – where's James?"

"Bill and Fleur are watching him. And you have nothing to be sorry for; you were right," Ginny said quietly. She unfastened her cloak and tossed it over a nearby chair.

"Right about what?" Neville asked, feeling confused.

"Everything." Ginny leaned in and kissed him soundly, much to his surprise. After a few minutes, she broke away and looked at him, her expression serious. "I've been so unfair to you, Neville. Let me make it up to you," she said.

Neville took a couple steps backward. "I don't want you to do something just because you feel as though you have treated me badly. If you don't want to…then it doesn't mean anything."

Her eyes looked surprised, but Ginny slowly nodded. "I want to, Neville. I think I've always wanted to…I just don't know why Bill was able to get through to me so much better than Hermione did. I love you, and I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to realize it."

"But I'm not…I mean, I'm not…"

"No, you're not Harry. But I've been thinking a lot tonight about something Bill said, and I need to stop thinking of Harry as some knight in shining armor. It's like…he died and all of a sudden I went back to viewing him as I did when I first met him, when I first had that childish crush on him and sent him singing Valentines. When I think about the real person Harry was…I'm glad you aren't him, in a lot of ways," she said with a faint smile. "He could be really thick, you know, and hard-headed, and impulsive and moody. And he never even _thought_ to ask me to the Yule Ball."

Neville laughed despite himself but said nothing.

Ginny looked up at him, her brown eyes sparkling. "So I guess what I'm trying to say is…thank you for being patient with me. I've been stubborn."

"Imagine that," Neville said with a wry smile, stepping a bit closer to her.

She leaned up and kissed him again, pulling his head towards hers. Neville felt a strange fire spreading though his veins as she kissed him deeper and more passionately than she ever had before. Acting on instinct, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. For the first time, she didn't pull away.

Suddenly, she tugged on his hand, leading him upstairs. Neville broke away as they reached their bedroom, breathing heavily.

"I love you, too, Ginny…I have for a long time," he said, feeling it was necessary to finally speak the words he had held inside for longer than he could remember.

Ginny merely grinned. "I know."

She kissed him again briefly before turning to the bed and tossing Kitty to the floor.

"James can have Kitty," she said, kicking off her shoes. "Better than that pig."

* * *

A/N: One more full chapter after this, which will be posted Thursday, probably. There will also be an epilogue, but I probably won't post that for a couple weeks, give everyone a chance to read Deathly Hallows. Thanks for reading, and please review! 


	15. Keep the Dream Alive

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me.

* * *

Chapter Fifteen: Keep the Dream Alive

"The formula is in the cabinet next to the sink – make sure you remember to warm the bottle with your wand before you give it to him. There are extra nappies in the cupboard off the kitchen, next to the baby food. If you need – "

"Ginny, stop," Neville said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I've got this; I know what I'm doing, honestly."

Sighing, Ginny slumped into a chair. "I still can't believe I have to be separated from him for a whole week."

"You have to go take your N.E.W.T.s; we'll be fine. Your mum will have him most of the day anyway while I'm at work," Neville said. He checked his watch. "Your Portkey is scheduled to leave in ten minutes."

"I'm going to fail everything," she said miserably. Neville thought this was highly unlikely – she had been studying constantly. He had even caught her reading her Transfiguration notes aloud to James as though she were trying to pass them off as a bedtime story.

"You're going to do wonderfully, Ginny, and the Healers will be lucky to have you," Neville said sincerely.

Ginny smiled slightly and went to kiss James goodbye. He gurgled happily from his spot on the rug, and Ginny reluctantly shouldered her bags and grabbed the water goblet Portkey. Neville quickly kissed her, and then she was gone.

James started to cry, startled by the sudden disappearance of his mother. Neville walked with him a bit and stuck his dummy in his mouth, and he soon calmed down. Heading to the kitchen, he fixed a bottle for James and made himself a sandwich for lunch.

About an hour later, Neville heard the sound of an Apparation outside and tried to remember if someone had told him they were coming over. Looking through the peephole, he could see Ron standing on the stoop. Smiling, he held James carefully in one arm while opening the door with the other.

"'Lo, Neville," Ron said cheerfully as he entered the house. "I figured you could use some company, and as it's Sunday and I have time off before our performance reviews, I thought I'd stop by." He seemed to be holding something behind his back, and Neville strained to see.

His eyes widened at the sight of the object. "Ron, no. Ginny'll kill me," he said firmly.

"But no one will see over your hedge, and I won't take him very high. Ginny never has to know," Ron said, brandishing his broomstick. "Besides, he's bound to be a natural flier."

"Maybe eventually, but right now he's five months old. He can't even sit up by himself. Look." Neville set James on the rug, where he promptly flopped onto his stomach. "See?"

"Oh fine," Ron said, chuckling. "But as soon as he's old enough to fly, I want to take him first."

"If you can convince Ginny of that, be my guest," Neville said, waving his hand dismissively. "Merlin knows I haven't gone near a broom since first year."

"So Ginny's gone for a whole week, then?" Ron asked, obviously sensing that the broomstick issue was now closed.

Neville nodded. "James and I are meeting her in Hogsmeade on Saturday to celebrate. We've never really taken him out in public before, so it should be interesting."

Ron rubbed his chin thoughtfully and nodded. "Still, I'm sure Ginny's classmates will want to see him. Colin will probably take lots of pictures for you."

"Great, just what we need," Neville said with a grin as he gestured to the mantle. About a dozen photographs of James in his various stages of life thus far were displayed prominently.

Ron snorted. "Well anyway…up for some chess? James can watch – he may be too young to fly but it's never too early to learn wizard chess."

* * *

Hogsmeade village was more crowded than usual, as it was a relatively sunny day by Scottish standards. Neville had abandoned the pram in favor of Hermione's baby carrier. He received several strange looks, but he didn't particularly care. It just felt good to be back in Hogsmeade.

"Neville! Hi!" Neville turned to see Colin Creevey hurrying down the street. He broke away from the other seventh years he had been walking with and approached Neville excitedly. His camera was bouncing around on its neckstrap, and he was wearing the bug-eyed expression typical of students who have just taken N.E.W.T.s.

"Ginny and Luna will be along soon; Ginny had to finish packing," Colin said breathlessly. He peered at the carrier. "Is that the baby? Can I see him?"

Feeling it would be useless to argue, Neville nodded and moved to the side of the street. He took a rather sleepy James out of the carrier so Colin could get a better look at him.

"Showing off the baby already, Neville?" Ginny said with a grin as she walked briskly up the street, Luna trailing behind. She kissed Neville as a means of hello before snatching up James. "Mummy's missed you so much!" she squealed, kissing his nose. James giggled as Colin's camera flashed.

"He has green eyes," Luna stated as she examined the baby. Neville groaned inwardly, but Colin didn't pick up on it.

As more Hogwarts students filtered into the village for their last Hogsmeade visit, Neville and Ginny found themselves surrounded. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to catch a glimpse of James. All the attention made Neville nervous, but Ginny handled the crowd well. She refused to let anyone else hold him, but she allowed several fourth-year girls to touch his cheeks and tickle him. Neville didn't get it – one would have thought none of them had seen a baby before.

James got cranky after awhile; he wasn't used to so much attention. Ginny excused herself politely and took the baby carrier from Neville. She started for the Three Broomsticks, and Neville followed with both her bags and the baby bag.

Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Madam Pomfrey, and Hagrid were at the Three Broomsticks, clearly enjoying the end of the school year. To Neville's surprise, Ginny approached their table to introduce James. She was greeted with smiles all around, even from McGonagall. In fact, when Neville looked closer, it seemed as though McGonagall had tears in her eyes.

As Neville struggled to untangle himself from the various bags, he heard Professor Flitwick inquire about James's age.

"A little over five months, Professor. He was born on January twelfth," Ginny responded. Though Neville suspected all present knew the truth of the matter, he could still see Hagrid, at least, calculating the dates in his head.

"You named him for his grandfather, then?" Professor McGonagall asked quietly.

Ginny paused, then gave a quick nod. "Yes. And for Professor Dumbledore, of course."

At the mention of the deceased Headmaster, Hagrid broke into a choked sob. Madam Pomfrey handed him a handkerchief, and he blew his nose loudly.

McGonagall quickly wiped her own eyes. "You have much to be proud of, Miss Weas – that is, Mrs. Longbottom," she said, acknowledging Neville with a nod. "I trust your N.E.W.T.s went well?"

"Yes, thank you, Professor. I'm glad I was able to come back to take them," Ginny said.

James began to squirm, and Ginny quickly grabbed his baby bag from Neville. "If you'll excuse me, he needs a fresh nappy." She wove her way through the crowd to reach the back of the pub, leaving Neville standing awkwardly around his former professors.

"Professor Sprout tells me you work at St. Mungo's now, Neville," McGonagall stated.

"Yes, in the Herbology Department. I really enjoy it," Neville said, beaming just a little. It felt good to be able to talk about his career success with the woman who was his old Professor and the current Headmistress.

McGonagall smiled. "I'm glad to hear that. Your parents would have been very proud – of everything you have done. You are a very honorable young man, Mr. Longbottom."

Neville blushed and murmured his thanks. In all honesty, he wasn't sure why people kept telling him how noble he was. He had only done what anyone would do for a friend, hadn't he?

Ginny returned then, and everyone took a turn holding James. They were all very complimentary but managed to be somewhat discreet in their praise. McGonagall had said only that James looked "like Lily," her voice so soft as to be almost inaudible.

James was lost in Hagrid's arms as the big man cradled him carefully. "It does my heart good ter see 'im," he said gruffly. The others all nodded.

Neville could tell Ginny was close to tears as she said her goodbyes. He picked up all three bags once more and moved towards the fireplace. With one last wave, he followed Ginny home.

* * *

Ginny had been granted an interview for the Healer program, so Neville had taken the afternoon off to watch a now six-month old James. Molly and Arthur were in Romania visiting Charlie, and Mr. Marks had let Neville leave work early. Neville had taken the opportunity to invite his gran for tea, since he felt somewhat guilty about leaving her alone.

"I still think this house has lost much of its charm, Neville," Gran said by way of greeting as she stepped through the fireplace. By "charm," Neville supposed she meant the purple and gold floral wallpaper and lavender shag carpeting he and Ron had removed.

"Hello Gran. If you can hold James for a minute I'll go get the tea," he said.

She set her large red handbag on a burgundy armchair and took the baby. James immediately made a grab for her hat, but she was quick to stop his hand.

Neville returned with the tea and a tin of chocolate biscuits. He put James in his playpen to prevent him from grabbing anything in reach. James liked to pull at buttons and loose strings, and Neville also knew there was a good chance he'd try for one of the biscuits.

"So Ginevra is going to train as a Healer?" his gran asked, taking one lump of sugar for her tea.

"That's what her interview is for, yeah. Her N.E.W.T.s were excellent – all Outstandings except for an Exceeds Expectations in Potions – but she's worried they might not accept her, because of James," Neville said with a glance at the playpen.

"They shouldn't hold that against her. Your mother had you and she was an Auror," his gran replied. Neville was glad, at least, that she didn't seem to think Ginny should stay home and tend to the house and the baby full time.

"Besides," Gran continued, "I'm sure Molly is willing to mind James during the day, and I, of course, would be more than happy to as well."

Neville nearly dropped his teacup. "Really?"

"Naturally. I'm not as young as I once was, surely, but – " She paused and peered at Neville carefully, looking very much like the cunning vulture perched on her hat. "You think I wouldn't help with James because he is not technically related to me?"

His face flushed, Neville bowed his head and nodded.

Gran made a tutting noise with her tongue. "That doesn't matter, Neville. I only questioned that originally because I thought you perhaps mistakenly believed the child was yours by blood, and I'm still sorry you felt the need to hide the truth from me for so long," she said, shaking her head. "You have done what few young men would do and willingly claimed the child of another man as your own. You have proven that family and love matter more than blood, and if there is one thing living through war has taught me it is that."

She paused and rose from her chair to pick up James. He was chewing on Kitty's purple ribbon with his three teeth, one of which had only emerged the day before and was still causing considerable torment. Neville smiled at him, and he giggled in return.

"You love him; I can see it," his gran continued. "He is your son, and I will always regard him as such." She took Kitty out of James's mouth and situated him more comfortably on her lap. "I actually found something you might find interesting; it's in my handbag."

Neville retrieved the handbag and handed it to his gran. She rifled through it with one hand, finally holding out what looked like a small, rectangular piece of parchment. Neville took it and gasped.

It was a photograph of four smiling young adults – his parents and Harry's parents. Frank and James each had an arm around their respective wife, and both Alice and Lily were visibly pregnant. Neville flipped the picture over; it was dated April 1980. He figured it must have been taken at an Order meeting. He watched as his mother kissed his father's cheek and was forced to look away.

It wasn't fair. They all looked so happy, so hopeful…but within two years after this picture had been taken two would be dead and the other two as good as dead. He wiped his nose on his shirt sleeve as hot tears rolled down his cheeks.

His gran set James in his arms and kissed his forehead. Neville felt oddly comforted by the strong baby smell of powder and milk, and he could feel his gran's eyes on him. "You remind me so much of them," she said wistfully.

"I-I always thought I wasn't as good a wizard as my dad…or my mum, for that matter," he mumbled.

"You were a late bloomer, Neville, but you've grown to be the strong young man I knew you could be," she said simply.

Neville glanced down at the picture briefly, thinking of something Ginny had told him months ago. "It could have been me, you know," he said suddenly. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to tell his gran this after all this time.

His gran looked at him perplexedly. "What are you talking about?"

"The 'Chosen One.' It could have been me…there was this prophecy about a boy with parents who had stood up against Voldemort, who would be born at the end of July, and he would be the one who could defeat Voldemort, in the end. Harry was born the day after me, his parents were in the Order of the Phoenix like Mum and Dad were…except Voldemort chose him, he marked him as his enemy when Harry got his scar. But…it could have been me," he finished, breathing rather heavily.

Neither of them spoke for several minutes. His gran just stared at him, as though she couldn't quite believe what she had just heard. James squirmed in Neville's arms and babbled a bit, grabbing at Neville's shirt pocket. Taking his hand, Neville gently adjusted James so that nothing was in his reach.

This slight disturbance seemed to shake his gran out of her thoughts. "I do hope you don't wish it had been you, Neville. You are just as much of a hero…just one of a different thread," she said finally, her voice uncharacteristically quiet. "You were the one who stepped in to guard Harry's weak side."

Neville looked down at James again, who had managed to grab the photograph and was waving it around. Catching his arm, Neville carefully took the picture from him and smoothed the edges. James looked at him, wide-eyed and innocent, and everything suddenly became clear. Neville looked at the picture again, feeling he had gained a new understanding. They had all given their lives – Frank, Alice, James, Lily…Harry – in defense of those they cared about, in defense of those things which truly mattered.

"You were there, too, Gran," Neville said softly. "To protect my parents' weak side…me."

There are all sorts of heroes in this world, Neville thought later as he watched Ginny play with James. Some sacrifice themselves for the greater good, and some are there to pick up the pieces and make the world whole again. If Neville did greater things with his life, it was because he was standing on the shoulders of those who had fought for what is right…on the shoulders of his parents…on the shoulders of Harry…on the shoulders of giants.

Ginny located a frame for the picture, which found a place on the mantle next to James's baby photos and their wedding photo and the picture of the Gryffindor boys in Neville's year.

"It's a reminder," she had said upon viewing the photograph for the first time. "It's a reminder that despite everything, one can always find hope…and life."

Neville picked up James and held the baby in front of the mantle, Ginny standing behind him with her arms wrapped around his waist. "You'll do them proud, James," he said quietly. "You'll do us all proud."

* * *

A/N: The end...for now. There is an epilogue, which will be posted sometime after Deathly Hallows comes out. I hope you all have enjoyed this story, and I would love to hear your comments. Thanks for reading! 


	16. Epilogue:  Live Forever

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

* * *

Epilogue: Live Forever

"So, excited for tomorrow?" Neville asked as he paused in the hall outside James's room. "Got everything packed? Your mum will have your head if you leave something for the morning."

"I've been packed for two days, Dad," James said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, good." Neville shifted a bit in the doorway. "Can I come in for a moment?"

"Sure," James said.

His dad entered the room and quietly shut the door behind him. Taking a seat on the edge of James's bed, he began to speak.

"I want you to have this," he said, pulling a piece of long silvery material out from the inside of his robes. "Your mother doesn't think you're old enough, she thinks we should wait a couple years, but it's your birthright…and what your mother doesn't know won't hurt her."

James took the cloak, a look of awe on his face. "You're really doing something behind Mum's back?"

His dad shrugged. "I think she does want you to have it, she just worries about you. After all, you don't have any Weasleys at Hogwarts to look after you, keep you out of trouble," he said, a twinkle in his eye.

"What does she think I'm going to do, land myself in detention the first day?" James said indignantly.

"She's perhaps still recovering from you 'accidentally' turning your brother's Pygmy Puff into a rather ugly pillow," his dad said, a stern look on his face.

"Hey, Twiggles survived that! And it wasn't my fault, if Joshua hadn't smashed my miniature Firebolt model…" James said, trailing off a bit. He supposed it had been rather immature to recoil at his five-year-old brother in that manner. "Mum wouldn't have even found out about that if Evie hadn't blabbed."

"You think I wouldn't have told her?" his dad asked, his eyebrows raised.

"You wouldn't have. You had already punished me by making me de-gnome the garden," James said.

"That's true," his father said thoughtfully. "All that aside, though, I hope you understand that giving you this cloak is not an invitation to break school rules. I just…thought you should have it. Your dad would have wanted you to have it."

James started a bit, as he always did whenever either of his parents mentioned Harry in such a manner. "You're my dad," he protested.

"You know what I mean."

James ran his hand over the smooth fabric of the cloak. A small thrill ran through him, knowing that this had belonged to the father he would never know. He looked back up at his dad, at the man who had raised him, and smiled widely. "Thanks," he said sincerely.

* * *

James had waited over two years to see the memorial, ever since his parents had settled him down when he was nine and told him the truth about his real father. He had been angry, at first – he had spent two days at Bill and Fleur's before finally calming down enough to return home. It had taken him awhile to understand how dangerous it could have been for him to know the truth before or to proclaim his true identity to everyone. He had grown up in a time of nearly unprecedented peace, and the fear that was still present in his parents' eyes when they spoke of Voldemort was something he wasn't sure he would ever grasp.

They had told him the whole story right away. His mother said Harry would have wanted him to know everything, that one of the things Harry had hated most was being told half of a truth. He had known the basics of Harry's heroics before, of course; it was standard bedtime story material for children of his generation. The truth was even more incredible than James could have imagined, and it at once made him feel immense pride and a sickening feeling of worthlessness. Surely he would never be able to live up to the great deeds of his father. Being the son of Harry Potter was even more intimidating than living up to his mother's Healer renown or being the grandson of the famed Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom.

He had arrived at Hogwarts that day feeling rather sick to his stomach and glad that his last name was still Longbottom. His parents were well-known, and he did have to field some questions from other enthusiastic first years who wanted to know more about the family closest to Harry Potter, but questions he could deal with. At least no one was staring at him.

He was sorted into Gryffindor, just as everyone had expected. As the oldest of the Weasley grandchildren, he fully expected to be given the task of looking out for the younger ones as they came along, first Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur's daughter and then his sister Evelina. Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron's son Gavin would arrive the same year as Joshua – that would be James's seventh year. This thought brought a smile to his face, but after a moment he quickly realized he was getting ahead of himself. He hadn't even started classes yet and already he was thinking of seventh year.

Shaking his head, he stared back at the memorial and thought about why he had come. It was late, well past curfew – he had snuck out using the Invisibility Cloak his dad had given him the night before. James now thought he might have understood his mother's reasoning for not wanting him to have it yet, as he had now snuck out of the castle on his very first night at Hogwarts.

Now that he was here, he wasn't sure why he had thought seeing the memorial would be so great. He had always hoped it would make him feel closer to Harry, but it just made him feel incredibly sad. The memorial was full of pictures, of not just Harry but also the many other great witches and wizards who had died in the fight against Voldemort. James recognized a few of them – copies of photographs his parents had in their house.

He stood in front of a large photograph of Harry, wishing it were a portrait and not a silent photo. James touched his own features as he looked at the picture, noting that they had not only the same eyes but also very similar noses and ears – in fact, if it weren't for the freckles that decorated James's face and his Weasley red hair he would look almost exactly like his real father. This had been something his mother commented about once, saying how lucky it was that few people would see past the ginger hair to really look at him.

He didn't really look like his brother and sister though, both of whom were brown-eyed and auburn-haired. Joshua definitely favored his father, and while Evie did resemble her mother greatly she also had an air about her which was very similar to their Great-Gran's. James himself had never noticed these differences until they had been pointed out to him – he looked a lot like many of his Weasley cousins and had never given a thought as to why he had green eyes.

His grandmother's eyes. He shifted his gaze from Harry's photograph to the picture of James and Lily. Lily, with the green eyes so like his, and James, who had given him his name and his untidy hair (which Great-Gran loved to attack with Sleakeasy's Hair Potion when given the chance, though his Grandma Molly had long since given up on the disaster).

As he stood there, he finally realized that pictures and stories of their bravery were never going to give him a true idea of who his father's family had been. Feeling disappointed that the memorial had not offered the sense of contentment and identity he had been hoping for, he turned towards the exit.

"I thought I might find you here, James," a voice said from somewhere outside.

Turning, James saw Professor Lupin approach the entrance to the memorial.

"I did intend to bring you here myself at some point, whenever the opportunity arose. I imagine you have some questions," Lupin said gently.

James shook his head resolutely. The last thing he wanted to do right now was talk about what he had seen. "No questions. I just wanted to see it, that's all."

Lupin nodded thoughtfully. "Well, if you ever do have questions…"

"I'll know where to find you. I know; that's what you said two years ago when my parents sent you to Bill and Fleur's to talk to me," James said.

Neither of them spoke for several minutes. "I'll have to give you detention, you know, for being out of bounds this late at night," Lupin said finally.

James's head whipped up quickly, his eyes burning. "Detention?" He had hoped, upon seeing that it was Lupin and not another professor, that he might be granted some leniency.

"I can't play favorites. Your detention will be with me, and don't worry, I will not make the task too odious," Lupin said with a small smile. "Incidentally, I believe you have broken your grandfather's record, getting a detention your very first night at Hogwarts. James would have been proud."

James tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. "Great," he muttered.

"Come on, I'll walk you back to Gryffindor tower," Lupin said, but James stayed rooted to his spot.

"If you don't mind…since I already have detention…could I take maybe five more minutes? I'll go to bed right afterwards, I promise," James said.

Lupin looked at him carefully, but he finally nodded. Left by himself once more, James turned back to the large picture of Harry. He stood in front of it with his shoulders squared.

"I'm sorry we never got the chance to know each other," he said quietly. "Mum's happy, though…I hope you'd be glad to know that. I've had a good life, thanks to you. I hope I would have made you proud."

James waited a bit. He wasn't sure what he thought might happen, but he wasn't altogether surprised when nothing did. "Well, I feel really stupid now, so goodnight," he said quickly. Turning on his heel, he pulled on the Invisibility Cloak and hurried across the grounds back to his dormitory.

He couldn't be sure, as it was so late, but he could have sworn he heard a voice whisper, "I am already proud." Shaking his head, and now quite sure that he was going mad, he fell into bed still wearing his shoes and was asleep instantly.

* * *

"James, hurry up, we'll be late!" his fellow Gryffindor Finn Bedderton called from the entrance to their dormitory room. James was still packing his school bag, trying to stuff the last of his textbooks inside. He had stayed up rather late the night before, a fact which he was now regretting as he yawned hugely.

"Where were you last night, anyway? Lawrence said he heard you bustling around the room after midnight," Finn whispered as they finally made their way downstairs.

"Just went exploring," James replied. "I'll take you next time, don't worry."

This appeared to appease his new friend, and James released the breath he had been holding. If he was going to spend seven years sharing a dormitory with Finn and Lawrence and the others he wanted to start off on the right foot and get along.

They got lost twice but managed to slide into Professor Clearwater's Transfiguration class with a minute to spare. James's stomach rumbled; he hadn't had the chance to get breakfast.

"Here…sorry I forgot your name…you dropped your quill." A girl with long dark hair and hazel eyes was reaching across the aisle holding his quill.

"Thanks. And it's James. James Longbottom," he said.

"Oh that's right, you're in Gryffindor. My name's Laurel Edwards, and I'm in Ravenclaw," the girl said, her hair falling into her face.

James opened his mouth to speak again, but he was stopped by Professor Clearwater, who had appeared at the front of the classroom. She introduced herself and called the roll before setting them to the task of turning matchsticks into needles. James pulled his attention away from Laurel Edwards and concentrated on his matchstick. He couldn't help but notice, however, that she was the first to successfully Transfigure her matchstick, and that she did so without boasting about it at all.

As soon as class was over he pulled his schedule from his bag, wondering how many classes they had with the Ravenclaws. After studying the schedule for a few seconds, he determined that it was just Transfiguration. Feeling strangely disappointed, he followed Finn and Lawrence to the dungeons for Potions.

After Potions they trooped into the Great Hall for lunch. James stopped at the Ravenclaw table and slid in next to Laurel, who was sitting alone with a big book open in front of her.

"Hi," he said. "Why are you sitting by yourself?"

Laurel looked up at him, startled. "You're supposed to sit at your own House table. That's what a prefect told me."

James looked up and down the Ravenclaw table to see that he was getting many strange looks. "Well, I think that's silly. I think friends should be able to sit together, don't you think?"

Laurel turned bright red and buried her face in her book.

"Tell you what," James said. "Why don't we both go sit at the Hufflepuff table? I haven't met many Hufflepuffs yet."

Her eyes wide, Laurel looked up at him. "You're very strange, James Longbottom."

"Is there something wrong with that?"

Laurel marked her page and shut her book, showing James the cover. It was _Hogwarts, A History_. "It's just…you're going against several centuries' worth of tradition."

James closed his eyes for just a moment, thinking of all the faces and names inside the memorial. "Too many good people died so we could have peace…and nothing's changed. Yesterday after the Sorting a Slytherin fifth year tripped my friend Finn just because he's a Gryffindor. I sit down at the Ravenclaw table and people stare at me like I've got giant bat-bogeys flapping all over my face."

"You're not going to change the entire school in one day," Laurel said. "Look, even Finn and Lawrence think you've gone round the twist."

James glanced back at his roommates, who were eating their lunch at the Gryffindor table and trying not to look in his direction. "Maybe not. But we have to try."

He pictured his Longbottom grandparents, who would never truly know that their son was married and had a family and an important job. He pictured his Potter grandparents, who never knew what a hero their son became before he died. He pictured his Weasley grandparents, who had held their family together through war and heartache and loss. He thought of his parents and his aunts and uncles, all of whom had done their part and left their mark on history. If they had given him peace, he was going to make the most of it.

James looked back at Laurel, a glint in his eye. "We've got seven years, Laurel. We've got all the time in the world."

* * *

"What's that?" Neville asked as he plopped into a chair next to Evie the evening of James's second day at Hogwarts.

"Letter from Jamie," Ginny said, her eyes dancing with amusement. "He's in Gryffindor, of course, and he's mentioned two of his dorm mates, Finn and Lawrence, so it looks like he's making friends. Lupin gave him detention already." She paused here to glare at Neville, who knew she was fully aware he had given James the cloak. "But I suppose that was a given, he's bound to get detention frequently seeing as he gets free Wheezes all the time, and at least he admitted it. He sat at the Ravenclaw table during lunch…if House unity is his latest crusade I wish him luck…we've let Hermione influence him too much. And finally…he met the girl he's going to marry!"

Neville nearly fell off his chair. "What? He said that?"

Ginny waved her hand. "Of course not. But he spent an awful lot of time writing about her…she's why he sat at the Ravenclaw table. Her name's Laurel Edwards…a mother just knows."

"That's mental. He's eleven."

"My mum always knew Ron and Hermione would get married."

Neville sat there with a dumbstruck look on his face. Ginny looked as though she were trying very hard not to laugh at him, and Evie tugged on his sleeve.

"Daddy? Can I get a dragon, like the ones Uncle Charlie's got?"

"What? Oh, sure," Neville said absentmindedly, still trying to wrap his mind around the idea that James had already found his future wife. Evie smiled widely and began forming her potatoes into the shape of a dragon with her spoon.

"No, Evelina, you will not be getting a dragon, but you get credit for asking your dad when he was clearly distracted," Ginny said, smirking. "Finish your dinner…you too, Joshua."

When dinner was over and the plates were cleared, Ginny sent the kids upstairs to get ready for bed. Neville stood by the sink, looking out the window at the sunset.

"Something on your mind?" Ginny asked.

"Well, I'm just thinking about something James said when I gave him Harry's cloak. I told him his dad would have wanted him to have it, and he turned to me and said, 'You're my dad,'" Neville said quietly.

"Well, you are his dad. You've raised him, you treat him the same as the younger kids – why wouldn't he say that?" Ginny asked.

"It just surprised me, I guess. You know I fully expected him to start hating me once he discovered the truth…and I guess I'm just shocked he hasn't yet."

Ginny placed her arms around Neville's waist. "He could never hate you. Trust me, you have nothing to worry about as far as James is concerned…except for the fact that he's clearing going to cause trouble with this sitting at other House tables thing."

"Maybe he has the right idea," Neville said suddenly.

"Maybe," Ginny replied, a thoughtful look on her face.

Neville listened to the sounds of his younger children, who were clearly making a mess in the bathroom. He smiled slightly before turning back to Ginny, who kept glancing at the stairwell with an exasperated look on her face.

"I'd better go take care of them before they turn the upstairs into a swimming pool," she said with a small sigh. There was a grin on her face, though, and Neville leaned in to kiss her.

"Good luck," he said. She rolled her eyes before heading upstairs. After a few seconds Neville heard two disappointed cries and Ginny's stern voice ushering Evie and Joshua to bed. He would join them in a few seconds for the nightly bedtime story.

Neville still wondered occasionally why he had survived when others didn't. Time had helped him understand that it was always necessary to move on, to make the most of the gifts he had been given and honor those who had sacrificed so much to make those gifts possible. That was what James was doing, he thought, by trying to be an example of tolerance and equality. Neville looked out the window just in time to see the sun settling past the horizon, casting a warm purple glow over the sky. Feeling a sense of peace washing over him, he went upstairs to be with his family, thankful that, for him, the sun would rise again.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has stuck with this story to the end, and a special thanks to my reviewers! I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

I do have a couple of ideas for further stories in this universe, but unless there's overwhelming interest I'll probably stick to post-DH stories in the future.

Best, Elizabeth


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